Savage Shadows
by Swyfte
Summary: In a fiercely competitive world, where each day is a fight for survival, a rogue kit is found. The Clan that adopts her is harsh and callous, and in her struggle to endure, she will face many untold dangers and difficulties. In the end, there can only be one question; how long can she suffer life's burdens? (Rated T, because it will get violent and possibly disturbing.)
1. Allegiances

The kit was alone. She was alone and hungry and tired. Something was growling in her stomach, sinking ravenous claws into her guts, and it was very cold. She was hiding in a rotten, dank tree stump, burrowed into the dead leaves, but it proved futile against the screaming wind and its stinging caress.

_Alone._

The one constant the shivering she-kit had come to depend upon was gone. Though she lay stretched beside the stump, ice forming crystals in her pale fur, snow buffeting her pelt, there was something in her vacant, glazed stare that made the kit understand that there was no life left in her frozen carcass. Something vital had fled its host, and it was an irretrievable force.

_Hungry._

The _thing_ bit into her insides, transformed her stomach into a moaning, empty pit and made her legs quiver and ears tremble. She was a slave to the beast that lurked within her, the one that mercilessly demanded more food, more food, and more food. But there was no more food. Hungry as she was, she sampled anything and everything in her reach; these were, mostly, dead, limp leaves that tasted foul in her mouth. The ogre, the beast, the hulking monster, the ravaging master that reigned within, was not impressed.

_Tired._

So, so, impossibly tired. Her eyes, a pale, icy blue, like deep water flowing beneath ice, were beginning to glaze over. What kept her eyelids from dropping was the gnawing hunger in her stomach.

_Cold._

She could not feel her paws, or even unsheathe her tiny thorn-sharp claws. The were numb with the bitter cold. A blizzard raged outside her meagre shelter and added a sharp edge, a cold snap, to the air around her. The wind seethed and tossed snow wherever whim possessed it to. It was a terrifying, freezing, deadly white wonderland- likely to kill any fool who ventured out to glimpse at its wrath.

_Alone. Hungry, tired, cold. Alone..._ It was a tempo in her head, pounding a relentless rhythm.

Had she been found any later, she would have been dead. Would've been a stiff corpse next to her mother, ravaged by cold and malnutrition. As it happened, some cruel fate twisted the tables, swiped at it with one careless paw, and prolonged her miserable existence.

* * *

CaveClan:

Leader- Dewstar: ginger tabby tom with vivid green eyes

Deputy- Grassblade: stocky, speckled dark gray tom

Medicine cat- Fallenbird: slim tortoiseshell she-cat with long ginger whiskers

Warriors-

Wildclaw: burly tabby tom with bat-like ears

Darkfrost: thin black she-cat with wide amber eyes

Apprentice- Stormpaw

Ratgaze: thickset black she-cat with livid scars

Thistletooth: pale tabby she-cat, one dainty white paw

Soulshatter: ginger tom with notched ears

Fogfern: thin, green-eyed grey she-cat with tufted ears

Apprentice- Windpaw

Skyleap: pale dusty brown tom with a kinked tail

Eagleshade: white tom splashed with russet patches

Eclispemoon: tiny black-and-white she-cat

Duskfeather: lean dusky brown she-cat

Jaggedstripe: silvery tabby tom with faintly striped tail

Apprentice- Otterpaw

Sleekstream: small, pale, blue-gray she-cat

Shardeyes: pale gray tom with cold blue eyes

Apprentices-

Stormpaw: dark gray tom with thick, hooked claws

Windpaw: wiry, faintly speckled she-cat

Otterpaw: brown tom with extremely short legs

Queens-

Moonlily: pale silver tabby she-cat, mother to Dewstar's kits (kits: Splatterkit: creamy-white she-kit with eratic brown speckles, Redkit: dark ginger tom with blazing stripes)

Hawkswoop: dark tabby she-cat, mother to Shardeyes's kits (kits: Thick-kit: brown tom with wide hazel eyes and dense fur)

Foxfeather: reddish brown she-cat

Elders-

FallowClan:

Leader- Swiftstar: short-furred white she-cat with large marbled black-and-gray patches and a blunt muzzle

Deputy- Thistlefur: gray tom with grizzled tabby stripes

Medicine cat- Bramblewing: pale, dusty-brown tabby she-cat with pale blue eyes

Apprentice- Falconfeather

Warriors-

Snow-whisker: white tom with ginger patch over one eye

Apprentice- Oceanpaw

Crowskull- black tom with bright blue eyes

Apprentice- Softpaw

Thunderstorm: muscular tabby tom

Finchsong: beautifully dappled gray she-cat

Mossheart: slender brown she-cat with ginger splashes

Skyheart: short furred blue-gray she-cat

Ratscar- scared, creamy brown tom

Apprentice- Applepaw

Moonfeather: thin black she-cat with wide green eyes

Fawnleap: calico tom with spiky forelock

Apprentice- Honeypaw

Goldensun: yellowish tabby tom

Blackheart: black she-cat, bright blue eyes

Apprentice- Wishapw

Fernstorm: gray she-cat with bushy tail

Apprentice- Squeakpaw

Apprentices-

Falconfeather: earthy brown she-cat with triangular face

Oceanpaw: white tom with stormy gray patches

Softpaw: sand-coloured she-cat with ginger streaks

Applepaw: thin black she-cat

Honeypaw: cream-and-gold she-cat

Wishpaw: speckled gray she-cat, black ringed eyes

Squeakpaw- lithe black she-cat with blunted snout

Queens-

Swiftstar- mother to Crowskull's kits (kits: Tabbykit: gray tabby she-kit with exotic green eyes, Mousekit: dark brown tabby tom, Featherkit: reddish brown she-kit with darker legs and muzzle, Dapplekit: pale gray she-kit with black splashes)

Shypaw: large black she-cat, former loner

Elders-

Spottedtail: small ginger tabby tom

Morningshine: thin black she-cat

Mudstripe: golden tabby tom with mud-coloured ripples

Masknose: plump gray tabby tom with bright pink nose

Russettail: calico she-cat with flecked, gingery brown pelt

ForestClan

Leader- Ebonystar: thin black tom with ginger tail tip

Deputy- Wildheart: brown, dappled she-cat

Medicine cat: Borageroot: white tom with reddish-brown dapples

Warriors-

Owlclaw: ginger tom with large white whiskers

Smokefang: dark gray tom with smouldering amber eyes and subtle leg striping

Apprentice-Thornpaw

Cheetahleap: yellow spotted tabby tom

Snowpool: white she-cat with startling green eyes

Foxfang: russet, long-furred tom

Apprentice- Featherpaw

Leafwhisper: pale brown she-at with bold stripes

Shadowstrike:black tom with gold eyes

Crookedstripe: lean tabby she-cat

Crowflight: black tom with white-tipped ears

Apprentice- Coldpaw

Savannahbreeze- yellow she-cat with white muzzle and paws

Rosethorn: creamy gold-and-white she-cat

Barkclaw: scrawny dark brown tabby tom

Apprentices:

Thornpaw: pale ginger, half-blind she-cat

Featherpaw: golden, brindled she-cat with white belly and paws

Coldpaw: silver tabby tom with gray eyes

Queens-

Sableheart: elegant ebony she-cat with long, tapered black, white-tipped tail and white rings around pale blue eyes, mother to Smokefang's kits (kits: Tigerkit: white tom with widely spaced black stripes, Shardkit: gray tom with rippling black stripes, Hollykit: slender black she-kit with mismatched blue and and green eyes)

Elders-

Fadedstream: thin, pale gray tabby she-cat

Graypelt: large gray tom

Specklemist: flecked brown she-cat

StormClan

Leader- Silverstar: pale silver she-cat, bright blue eyes

Deputy- Raincloud: gray-blue she-cat with misty gray eyes

Medicine cat- Echoheart: slim white she-cat with gray patches and narrow yellow eyes

Warriors-

Charstorm: mottled gray tom

Oakthron: burly golden-brown tabby tom

Twigstripe: lithe pale tabby she-cat

Waspclaw: black tom with a long, thin tail

Owlwhisker: green-eyed ginger tom

Firefang: speckled ginger she-cat

Elmshadow: black-and-white she-cat

Apprentice- Reedpaw

Talonfall: large dark tabby tom

Yellowtail: scrawny, thin furred yellowish tom

Nightbreeze: amber eyed black she-cat

Apprentice- Dreampaw

Timberclaw- long-furred earthy brown tom with ringed tail

Redheart: pale red she-cat

Apprentice- Rushingpaw

Dawnstreak: pale, creamy brown she-cat with dusty flecks

Vapidmist: gray she-cat, usually speckled blue eyes

Apprentices-

Reedpaw: dark red tom, brown streak along spine

Dreampaw: white she-cat with curled pelt

Rushingpaw: red tom with white stomach, chest and paws

Queens:

Petaldrift: golden she-cat with gingery dapples, mother to Owlwhisker's kits (kits: Frostkit: long-furred gray she-kit with white paws, Willowkit: pale gold she-kit with striking ginger stripes, Brindlekit: golden brindle tabby she-kit}

Fallingsnow: dappled gray she-cat, mother to Waspclaw's kits (Kits: Brownkit: tabby tom with vivid golden eyes, Tumblekit: dark brown with one white leg and shoulder, Juniper: soft-pelted gray-and-white she-kit with large, rounded ears)

Elders-

Scorchfur- ginger tom with blue eyes

Shrewnose: plump brown tom, oldest cat in Clan.

Others-

Pebble: pale gray spotted tabby she-kit

Blizzardcry: gray tabby she-cat with large blue eyes

Unity: scrawny black-and-white she-cat

Sheathe: battle-scarred black she-cat

Kiroki: dusky brown mountain lion

Brae: small black bear

Whisper: white tom with black paws

Pine: lanky brown tom, haunted yellow eyes

Cyan: spotted hyena

Cyclone: aged dark gray she-cat

* * *

**And there you are. All those scary cats chucked into a reference list for whatever your hearts desire. Also, no questions about any of the characters (although I will say that this story is based off a role play and most characters have not been invented by me. Also, you can tell who my favorite charries are because of the detailed descriptions). I just paint the picture: you are the one who has to see it- and see it in any light you like. Anyways, give me the old R and R and I'll die a happy person.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Right, m'dears, here's a shot at the first chapter. Read, enjoy/dislike, and tell me why in your fantabluetastic review.**

* * *

The kit woke up, and it was dark. It was a terrifying dark, filled with looming shadows and jagged edges. There was coldness beneath her feet, like some sort of damp, hard rock. But the thing that scared her most was not her sudden shift in location, nor the blackness that threatened to smother her whole. It was the fact that, quite abruptly, she was no longer alone.

Footsteps shuffled shuffled towards her, and she pressed herself against the rock in her trepidation. Her whiskers trembled; it was perhaps the the only thing she could see, the constant quiver of fine hairs, gleaming in some dim light, silhouetted against the eerie dark. Shivering like a twig in a storm. Shaking like a kit's, alone and scared in the dark, who was not going to be alone for much longer.

The shuffle of paws against stone stopped, and warm breath ruffled the fur on her neck. Without warning, a paw gave her quick jab in the ribs with one claw. She lurched in alarm, muffling the tiny squeak that escaped her maw by thrusting her leg into her mouth.

"G'up, would ya?" a voice growled. It was husky, accented with strange cadences and a certain, rough quality.

"Ya'd better g'up or Dewstar'll have your hide. Now, kit, I dinna do second chances. Up!"

With the crude sequence of words came another shove, which knocked the startled kit onto her side. Her stomach snarled a warning, and a wave a nausea rose up in her throat.

The voice gave an impatient hiss and nudged her to her paws. Then there were teeth- jagged and broken- in her scruff. The ground disappeared from under her with a sudden yank. Her churning paws met hollow air. The fangs clenched tightly together, and a whimper wormed its way out of her mouth.

"Sh'up," the voice mumbled around a mouthful of fur and skin. There was no flesh on her bones-not she, the starved rogue. She swung through the air like a feather, as if all that weighed her down was the tom with his tusk's clamped on the back of her neck.

She was aware that they were moving- her nausea told her with each jerking stride- but she could not discern the difference between one dark tunnel and the next. There was only the shadows huddled around her, grazing her pelt with their vague touch as she passed.

And then there were the voices. They hissed and murmured around her, bouncing off one chalky wall and onto another. They found her ears, and then all she could hear was the incessant whispers. She caught phrases, snippets, hushed words-

_"Rogue..."_

_"Dead mother...mere starved rogue..."_

_"Nobody needs it...chuck it out in the snow, I say..."_

_"Poor kit...in this Clan, who knows how long it'll last?" _

_"It's half-dead-why not do it a favour and snap its neck to save it the suffering?"_

_"Rogue...who needs another?"_

_"Just a rogue."_

The insults found her heart and sunk in their thorny claws. She was _not_ just a rogue and she was _not_ half-dead...and her mother, wherever she was, was going to rescue her and rip out those liar's throats. In their last moments they would beg for mercy, and there would be none.

All her bravado abandoned her when they entered the cave full of the cats. Their whispering stopped- all sound ceased. They broke out of their little huddles, and looked with an air of great expectancy and the bright ginger tom sitting at their head. Her own eyes gravitated towards him; his pelt was a shockingly vivid colour, with a mass blazing stripes tangled around his pelt. He had gleaming green eyes, and his mouth was pulled tightly into a frown. Her limited vocabulary could not supply her with an emotion, but it look similar to disappointment- a look her mother had rarely used with her. When prey was scarce, and it had been, these past tormenting days, it seemed almost permanently fixated on her face. This tom's look, however, shared a border with dislike. She would later come to know this word as _disdain_, and it would often be used on her.

The jaws that held her aloft sprang open. For a moment she flailed through the air, before there was suddenly stone. She crumpled onto the ground and lay there submissively, flanks heaving with each strained breath. Eyes probed her ruffled pelt and scorched paths that tingled on her skin.

"Dewstar," a voice boomed, and then added, as if it were an afterthought, "and cats of CaveClan."

She weakly craned her head and found the speaker; he was a dark gray tom with round little spots scattered over his pelt. That was she could make out in the dim light, besides a flash of yellow eyes as he turned to stare at her. His gaze was like an accusation.

"This rogue was found on the outskirts of CaveClan's vast territory. It was with another dead rogue, presumably its mother. Pelt colour is gray. It has tabby markings. Eye colour is blue. It is a female. Judging by pelt condition and overall condition, it appears to be severely malnourished. The age cannot be precisely determined but it is assumed to be over 3 moons. That is all we can discern, Dewstar. Majority of the Clan is against the adoption of of this kit, sir. Majority of the Clan thinks it will be better off left in the snow outside," the tom rattled off a list of information. He did not seem to pause for breathe. Dewstar nodded at points in the dialogue and when it was finished, he swiveled his bright green gaze to stare at the kit.

"No name?" he asked in a rich, musical voice.

"Rogues do not need a name to be identified, Dewstar." The tom barked his name like a command.

The kit seemed to shrink in on herself. Her blue eyes stared at the ground, and her long white whiskers shivered.

Dewstar hummed nonchalantly. "Can it talk? Plead its case?"

"By consulting our collected information we have decided...probably," the tom meowed. His long tail whisked through the air. "But it is not advisable -"

"Let the rogue speak for herself," Dewstar drawled. There was curiosity dancing in his eyes- as if this were a marvelous game, and an astounding twist was about to be revealed. There was air about the ginger tom that yowled _undisputed king. _He had, clearly, never been beaten at his own game.

Impatiently, he lashed the air with a dramatic flourish of his plumed orange tail. "Speak, then. Do not deny what our leader allows you," the gray tom growled. The massed cats craned their heads to, once more, stare at her. Their eyes, glowing in the feeble light, were expectant.

She shuffled her paws for a moment, feeling woefully lost. Dewstar's eyes began to narrow, and disappointed sighs started to wend their way out of yielding throats.

"I...I..." she mumbled, before making a visible effort to sit up and straighten her spine. Her short gray tail curled around her small paws.

_I? I what?_ She couldn't hear them, but silently, everyone was asking the same question. _Well, I what?_

"You could start with your name," Dewstar said drolly, and laughter rose from the crowd. They seemed ready to agree with anything he said, hanging on to his every dry word with eager claws. Anything concerning her seemed to be particularly hilarious to them. As if she were a joke. As if she were for nothing else but scorn and mockery. A cheap laugh, at someone else's expense.

"Your _name_, please," Dewstar prompted.

_My name._ On the edges of her mind lurked a whisper of a memory. A mere, ragged scrap of what it once was, but-

_Her mother crooned softly, stroking her pale gray tail along her back. It was perfectly warm, and her stomach was distended with food. Her eyelids were heavy. So heavy, so heavy she just wanted to give in to the oblivion that tugged gently at her mind. At last, as they fluttered closed and her breathing grew shallow, she realized that her her mother's ceaseless purr was forming words. Soft, hushed words, filled with love and affection._

_"My precious Pebble," she whispered. "My darling, my Precious Pebble."_

"Pebble," she mewled. The memory dissipated like smoke, and left a faintly milky scent tingling on her tongue.

* * *

**Dere. R and R, and make sure you review to tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Okay...Pebble," Dewstar murmured, rolling her name over his tongue with a certain indecisiveness. "Do you want to say anything else or can I consider this trial over and go back to my nice, warm nest?"

A few cats offered hushed agreements.

The gray tom started to speak in his formal, blunt tone. "That will be all, Dews-"

"I'm hungry," Pebble interrupted. A startled, comical expression flashed across his face at the altercation. Moments later it was once more sealed behind a blank mask, but his eyes were narrowed. She, a mere rogue, dared _interrupt _him? The very idea seemed scandalous.

"Yes," Dewstar muttered. "We're all hungry." He gazed at her with hard, blank eyes. He did not see Pebble for what she was- starving, limp, trembling. He did not see the sharp edges and angles emaciation painted on her face, nor her shrunken stomach and dirty, unkempt gray pelt that clung to her brittle, twig-like bones. He did not see a wretched, malnourished kit. Dewstar saw what Dewstar wanted to see; just a mere rogue, a vague threat, a prey-stealer and a trespasser on his vast empire. More importantly, Dewstar and his cohorts felt no pity and delivered no mercy.

"Take her to the Pit," Dewstar declared abruptly, standing and stretching with a languid ease. "For she deserves no better."

Impromptu yowls of glee escaped the melee of cats, and the crowd started to seethe with excitement. "Pit! Pit! Pit!" they chanted.

The next thing Pebble knew, there were broken teeth clamped tightly onto her scruff again. She was swung off the ground once more, but this time, she did not have the courage to protest. The shadows swallowed them whole as they left the large cave. The Clan followed behind them, wailing their eerie chant- "Pit! Pit! Pit! Send her to the Pit!"

The tom who held her seemed to be smiling- she could feel his lips tilting upwards in a savage grin.

"W-what's the Pit?" Pebble squeaked breathlessly; the seemed lurching motions seemed to jerk all the air out of her heaving lungs.

"Yer'll see," he promised, his thick voice muffled by the kit fluff he gripped in his maw. The conviction he spoke with made Pebble decide she most definitely did _not_ want to see.

So the kit changed tack. "I'm hungry," she whined again, in the hopes that someone -anyone!- would take pity on her. She wouldn't need much...a scrawny mouse would fill the hollow, barren place once called her stomach.

"Shu'it," the tom growled, giving his head a small toss and jerking her through the air. Then he took a sharp turn. The walls reverberated with the incessant chant. The cats were in a frenzy, and with a heart full of dread, Pebble knew it was because something _terribly_ exciting was about to happen to _her_.

They finally came to a sudden halt in front of a blank stone wall. She was dropped, along the the tattered remains of her dignity, onto the hard ground below. Something in her shoulder gave a _ wrench _and a _pop _as she landed. It began to dully ache. She sucked back a hiss. The tom placed a careless paw over her tail -it was a thick, brown paw, with barely sheathed talons for claws- and started to preen.

A large tabby tom brushed past the pair. The rest of the Clan crowded into the cramped tunnel behind them, with many hissed curses and threats as they vied to shuffle forwards.

The tabby began to heave one shoulder against the rock wall, and it slid slowly open with a low grinding hiss. A pungent, rotten odor wafted out of the hole that had not been there moments before. Nervously, Pebble glanced at the cats behind her. They had all fallen silent, watching with tangible anticipation. The kit froze as the tabby motioned her forwards. Surely they would not send her cascading into that black pit- _surely_ not.

A heavy paw shoved her towards the dark opening. Her shoulder bemoaned its pain, but she was too terrified to utter a sound. She was so close, she could reach out and caress the dark shadow that lurked before her. Pebble tried to turn and run. But her movements, as if she were under water, were slow and predictable. To easy, for the battle-scarred warrior.

One more shove and she tumbled backwards. A stale breeze washed over her dirty pelt as she opened her mouth in a soundless wail. The darkness swathed her in its folds, and took her for its own.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The kit peeled open her eyes. The miniscule action, however, took no effect; she could see nothing, feel nothing but darkness. Thing next thing she registered was the smooth objects beneath her paws. There were many, all various shapes and lengths. Some were thin and curved, others thick and short. There was one...it felt rounded, like a stone, but with indents, and two holes, as if for eyes... Somehow connected to the spherical shape, there was a knobbly stick. It was larger than she, and the whole thing baffled her..._What were these things, that shifted and clattered as she moved, and felt so polished beneath her youthful paws?_

How was she, so young and pure, to understand she was standing on a mass grave? Even the rotten stink that permeated the air gave her no clues.

She, who knew so little and experienced so much, did not know she was in a place of nightmares, standing in its own ghastly abode. The only thing she feared was the hunger in her stomach- and the things the lurked in the dark. And so, desperately, tragically hungry, she traversed into the darkness with watchful wary eyes and pricked ears.

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**Sorry it's a short chappie, guys, but I'm so tired. Anyway. I'll write longer chapters when _you_ give me more (helpful) _reviews_.**


	4. Chapter 4

When nothing lunged at her out of the deep, yawning blackness, Pebble began to regain some confidence. She crunched over the bones beneath her paws- although it could be said she walked without direction, blind in the darkness- with a certain swagger attained through unproven self-certainty. Though her shoulder still retained some pain, she grew accustomed to its small, insistent whine. She'd even found a sleeping mouse, nestled among the scattered cartilage. She'd wolfed it down without a second thought, and though her stomach pleaded for more, at least it had something else to sink its ravenous teeth into. It was hard to track the time, with the ceaseless absence of light. She took small naps when she felt like she needed it. Her nests of choice did not prolong the amount of time she spent somewhere between peaceful bliss and lulling, black oblivion; rather, the bones did not deem themselves suitable roosts, and often jabbed her awake with jagged edges and ends.

This period of relative safety, however, soon drew to a close. Danger announced its presence with a scuffle and crackle of bones. Pebble paused, whiskers twitching. A low growl invaded the air, along with a blast of wet, hot breath that stunk like crow-food. Where before her blood had felt like ice in her veins, it began to pound through her body with the heat of wildfire. Her heart fluttered in her chest. All rational thought fled her mind- and so she ran. She ran with out direction, without aim, with just a single, desperate purpose driving her on. _She wanted to live. _The thing behind her, however, seemed to have a more malicious intent. It sprang after her with a feral cry. Scrambling wildly over bones, the kit cast a terrified glance over her shoulder. All she could see was a pair of tawny orbs, soaring towards her...and then she could see nothing at all.

OoOo

Pebble drifted in the darkness. There was a faint pain in her shoulder, and she did her best to ignore it; after all, it belonged to the material world, and she, for a blissful, small while, did not. She belonged to the darkness, and the darkness, in return, was hers. And that was all that mattered in her tiny fraction of eternity. And then she could see reality rushing towards her like a flash flood. She was powerless to stop it. All she could do was stand, small and humble, in its rapidly approaching path. It barreled towards her...she meekly accepted her fate...waited to be carried away to her doom... The flood caught her, and plunged her back into the world of the living.

Her eyes shot open. She didn't know where she was, and for a moment she paused to simply listen. There was nothing-just the smothering pitch-black ambiance of the massive cave. Cautiously, the kit lurched to her feet. Her tongue was dry, and it was starting to taste like chalk. Her vision swirled, but that hardly matter as she couldn't see anything in the first place. Her head also pulsed with pain, and the kit tried as best she could to ignore it. There were more important things to worry about.

The kit took her first, trembling step forward. Her paw plunged into a pile of bones with a dull rattle. Pebble froze, her breath hitched in her throat. Slowly, she withdrew it, and blindly felt around with her paw until she found a relatively stable spot. She heaved a silent sigh of relief.

"They've never sent me a kit before." A voice sprang out of the darkness, dangerously close behind. It was a sleek, velvety voice. Turning her head ever-_so_-slightly, Pebble saw that it belonged to the pair of tawny eyes. They were narrowed, as if the mouth behind the eyes was smirking. She gulped; in the gloom, she had no idea where she could escape. And she had a feeling that the glowing orbs could she see everything she herself could not.

"They?" stammered Pebble, leaning nervously against an arching, spindly bone. Her voice was rough; yet another sign of delayed dehydration kicking in with a vengeance.

"How cute," the creature purred. "You've no idea who the monsters you have stumbled into exactly are. Let me state it for you. They're arrogant they think they're the best things that have ever happened to the entire forest. Far from the smartest, I assure you. _Far_."

Pebble stared at the eyes. There was a look that lurked there, that told of moons of evading the last shreds of sanity.

"Goodness. What next? There are so many things I could say. So many ways I could describe them that would terrify you. Well. They care only for themselves. You know the saying-no? Each for their own, or something like that. They're lead by that airhead Dewstar. I take it you've met him. Bright ginger fluffball. Hard to miss and hard to forget. Anyway. They call themselves CaveClan. Ridiculous, I know, and the other Clans mock them for it. Behind their backs, of course. Can't have them publicly embarrass their ally. Oh, StarClan forbid." The voice rambled on, while Pebble crouched shivering with terror. _Is it going to kill me? Isn't it going to kill me? _Tell_ me now!_

_"_StarClan. Pompous bigots. What? I see that look on your face." Pebble wasn't sure how, in the compelling darkness.

"Don't tell me you don't know who StarClan are? StarClan the _almighty_. StarClan, the _great _and the _majestic_, who see and know all..." the voice trailed off, as if finishing a string of vile sentences in the privacy of its own mind.

"_Ugh_," there was a sound of muffled disgust. "You live in a soft world, kit, if you have never heard of StarClan and their blessed warriors with their _precious, precious _code. How ironic that you have been thrust into its very center with no knowledge at all. One could laugh at the hilarity. Ha, ha-see?"

The she-kit mumbled a response that was somewhat incoherent in context. The thing behind her didn't care, just simply continued to ramble on with a watchful eye resting on her pelt.

"Let me tell you a story," it said with glee, and Pebble, feeling like she didn't have much of choice, nodded.

"_Goody._ Now, where to start? Oh, with the beginning, I suppose, because one ought to start with the start. My mother was a Clan cat, as I recall. She was very beautiful, I was told. They called her Palefeather, or something equally nonsensical- Clanner names, I mean, who needs em'? What matters was that she was a Clan cat. My father was not. He was some sort of mountain lion sub-species*, smaller in proportion to the common size of his breed. There was an altercation behind the two, and lo and behold, me! Glorious, marvelous me! I was not, however, to get to know my mother very well at all. I could not even open my eyes by the time she died. I was too large for delicate, little her. Tore her apart, the Clanners told me. But anyway, the Clan did not dispense of me then. I was raised with another she-cat's litter, though I quickly outgrew all her kits. I could see the relization in their eyes, as I began to tower over them, the realization that I was not one of them. You see, they fear the unknown, the undiscovered and untold. It terrifies then like rabbits facing a hungry cat's claws. They stripped me of my Clanner name- if I remember right, they called me _Dustkit_, oh, the horrors- and replaced it with the name of my father. He was sort of infamous in this area, and was known as Kiroki. And then one smart soul had the bright idea to chuck me down into _this_ cheery place and feed me their prisoners. Oh, don't look like that, I have to eat _something_, don't I? Occasionally they'd throw me a rabbit or hare to keep me sweet. Can't admit that I like it down here, but I've certainly added my own..._flair_ to the cave, wouldn't you reckon?" Something swished over the carpet of bones with a clatter.

Pebble poked at the unstable floor beneath her with one ginger paw. They were _bones?_

"Now, just to...toy with their Clanling feelings, I'm going to do you a nice thing. Don't be surprised, little kitty-catty." The orbs moved disconcertingly close, and a wave of rancid, steaming breath rippled over Pebble's face. That was before, _yet again_, teeth buried themselves in her scruff and she was swung off the ground and into the insubstantiality of air.

"'Ang on in t'ere," Kiroki muttered. She had somewhat sharp teeth, and gravity's insistent tug on her body created a minimally painful effect. Yet there was something lulling about her long stride, the way the ground seemed to disappear beneath her paws. Distance was swallowed in a matter of mere seconds. As they swiftly travelled, the air around them began to grow cold and brittle, and resonated with a dull luminance. Pebble blinked and tried to shelter her eyes with one thin paw. Even Kirkoki winced in the pale glow. The source of light became apparent quickly; in the rocky ceiling, part of the roofing had crumbled to the floor and left a gaping hole mouth that led to the outside world. A light dusting of snow crusted the rabble of rocks that lay beneath the entrance.

With a bound and a flex of fluid muscles, Kiroki leapt through the hole and into the beyond. Though cold, it was clearly not the white, wild, raging expanse Pebble had come to know before. This was a sparse wood, with damp dirt underfoot. Scattered beside trees or in the open were piles of white slush with the occasional streak of mud.

It was here that Pebble was unceremoniously dropped beside a pair of dusky-brown paws.

"Here you are," Kiroki said. She sounded pleased with herself. Pebble tilted her head back to catch a glance of a large cat, with dusty brown fur, a long twining tale and wickedly curved, gleaming fangs. The kit received a smile-one could liken it to a sneer- in return, and a soft cuff over the head with one of the feline's large paws.

"Here you are," she said again. "Just yonder is the cave system. You really ought to go back there. They have a silly custom that if you manage to fight the 'beast' and escape with your life, they owe a sort of debt to you and you become an accepted member of their Clan. They don't seem to have realized that if a prisoner can escape, so can I. Funny little things they are. One can't help but wonder if they were all individually dropped on the heads as kits. But anyway. At your tender young age, it's probably the better option to return."

"T-thank you?" Pebble stuttered. It seemed something of an inadequate response, considering that Kiroki had _not_ eaten her and had even shown her how to escape.

"Just remember, little kit," Kiroki breathed in her ear, leaning a little too close for comfort against her. "A favour is a favour, and I expect one in return." Pebble had no idea what the half-cougar meant, and thought it simply best to nod in compliance.

"Good," Kiroki murmured, and straightened up with a click of flustered joints. Walking over Pebble, she began to stride away. The light glanced off the array of puckered scars that twined across the feline's body. With a jolt, Pebble saw teeth embedded in her tail.

"How'd you get those scars?" Pebble asked as her insatiable curiosity made a bid for freedom.

Kiroki paused for a moment. "Those who did not go quietly. Those who had the misfortune to be the first of my victims, before the I perfected the fine art of ambushing my prey and swiftly killing them."

"Oh," Pebble said. She hated how young she sounded, and how the vulnerability swam in her voice.

One more question wormed its way out of her mouth, and caught the lioness just as she prepared to launch herself back into the hole and the cumbersome dark.

"Why do you stay?"

Pebble had to pitch forwards to catch the rushed answer. Kiroki plunged into the cavity, and her reply was almost lost in the tangle of whooshing air. Pebble manged to snare the answer, and the accompanying leer.

"Free food," Kiroki called, before the ground devoured her whole.

* * *

Sorry I was delayed in the posting of this chapter. Holiday travelling and all. But anyway, here you have it- my longest chapter!

*Now, this may not be entirely realistic. I did some research on it and nothing really came up so I just went with it. It was a compulsive idea of mine. If you'd like to tell me about the incorrections of this, or how it could be made slightly more realistic, feel free to PM me or tell me in a review. Because you all seem to be forgetting to post them.


	5. Chapter 5

The welcome she received was not a happy one. Cats stared, with disapproving frowns, as she tumbled through the entrance to CaveClan's underground network of tunnels. Some were shocked; they had evidently expected to never see her again. _Good riddance, too_, they had clearly thought. After all, she was just another rogue's aimless kit, and the resident monster needed to be feed. Better her then them.

The kit imperiously demanded that she be taken to see Dewstar- as _if_ she had any right to command them about. She might have impossibly escaped the beast, and due to Clan custom, she _might_ have to be accepted into their ranks, but it did _not_ mean they would respect her, or her inconceivable accomplishment. However, several cats went to fetch Dewstar anyway; they were curious to see how he would resolve this anomaly. If any cat could find a loophole in this type of situation, it would be Dewstar, _surely_?

Dewstar arrived in a very disgruntled matter. The Clan and Pebble were, once again, gathered in the large chamber. The leader was escorted once more into the cavernous space to _once again_ deal with that troublesome little pest. Apparently once was not enough. He did not at first realize the nature of the convention. Cats had poured into his cozy little den and prodded him awake. They'd been very vague about the whole affair, only telling him things like, _Very important...We'll explain it all...later._ And so he was hustled from his soft, warm nest and into the chill of the tunnels beyond. Dewstar had his suspicions, of course- no cat could survive for very long without a healthy dose of cynicism and trepidation. He had no idea, until he entered the sprawling cave, that Pebble was the instigator of all this mess. One rampant little kit, it seemed, was all it took to bring his orderly system -_hunt, patrol, train, rest, hunt..._- crumbling down around his ears. Dewstar, tangibly, was not pleased. The confident expression on the little rat's face only added to his grouchy mood.

Pebble knew this. But she also knew what Kiroki had said, and though slightly less than sane, the big cat did not seem one to lie. According to custom, it demanded she be accepted by them. Or else their treasured 'StarClan', whatever they might be, would be...vexed. Pebble had no plan beyond this point, only the hope that CaveClan would not dare defy what they seemed to worship.

Luckily for Pebble, Dewstar was not feeling his normal cynical, airy self. The cold weather had given him a bit of a snuffle and he seemed to think this a tragic woe. All the orange tom really wanted to do was go curl back up in his test, without the any of the herbs that Fallenbird, the medicine cat, insisted on imposing on him. They were awful and bitter, and the mere thought of having to swallow some more made his nose crinkle with disgust. Cats looked at him with a bit of amused curiosity, and he wiped the emotions the clean off his face. He, the revered leader of a large and voluminous Clan, had more important things to worry about. Or so he told himself.

Dewstar slowly made his way to the head of the Clan, trying to retain a dignified air about himself. Pebble sat off to one side. The darkness had not seemed to have broken her, as he had hoped. No. She lived on, blinking up at him with wide and innocent blue eyes. He sauntered past her and found his seat, a well-worn depression in the smooth stone ground. There he sat, with an audible murmur of protesting joints and muscles. Grassblade, his deputy, strutted up to stand beside him.

"Let the meeting commence!" he cried, with the same, old tone of impetuosity brandished in his voice. Some cats, Dewstar reflected, never changed.

There was a small silence. With a jolt, Dewstar realized it was his turn to speak. He muffled a yawn and drew his shoulders back, trying for the imperious stare that seemed to make his Clan especially nervous.

"Alright, alright. Found your way back here, did you...Pebble?" Dewstar asked, leveling his impassive gaze at her. She nodded, her eyes glinting with a brash steel.

"Didn't, say, get eaten by any mountain lions, in your absence, I see?" Pebble shook her head. Wordplay, for the moment, was a bit above her head, and anything the Dewstar said was, to her, a jumble of nonsense.

"And so, do you know what that means, little one?"

Pebble shrugged and looked deliberately chaste.

Dewstar twisted his mouth in a grim acceptance of reality. "It means welcome to the Clan, Pebble."

OoOoOo

According to the cave cats, nightfall was looming closer. Pebble could only perceive a slight, though continuous, dimming of the feeble light. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the inescapable gloom, and the finer details of her new home and the cats who inhabited it were becoming clearer.

With the arrival of the night, cats began to drift away to their hidden dens. Pebble was left sitting, alone and unwanted, in a corner of the cave. Her thin fur was fluffed out against the cold, but it did not offer much insulation. When she was the only cat left, she settled down onto her stomach and tucked her paws beneath her chest. She felt lost, abandoned. They had, reluctantly, feed her, and she did not even have a companion in the grumbling of her stomach. The only thing to smother her loneliness was the darkness. Perhaps it would be all she'd ever have.

_This is my life now,_ Pebble thought to herself, as her eyelids fluttered closed. It wasn't much of a life, she supposed, but at least she had one.

_This_

She tried to stifle a massive yawn that insisted on crawling its way up her throat.

_Is_

She curled her tail around her and rested her head on its tip.

_My_

No, that wasn't comfortable. She squirmed around for a bit and eventually ended up with her muzzle resting underneath her forepaws.

_Life-_

"You don't have to sleep there, you know," a tom said. Her eyes flew open, and fixated on a short brown tom. He was peering at her with the insatiable curiosity all CaveClan cats seemed to possess in enormous quantities.

Pebble felt slightly annoyed. She'd been on the verge of blissful sleep, and that same contented, sleepy feeling was going to be difficult to retrieve.

"Well, where else am I going to go?" she snapped. He looked taken aback, but shrugged nonchalantly.

"You can stay in the apprentice den, with us. I think Dewstar will give you a Clan name and a mentor tomorrow anyway."

Terms like _Clan name, apprentice _and _mentor _made no sense to Pebble. She knew little of the Clans, only what she had witnessed and what Kiroki had told her. That knowledge helped very little. But she sighed and rose to her paws complacently. The tom beamed at her and trotted away. His speed was surprsing, for such a short-legged little tom.

"I'm Otterpaw," he called over his shoulder. She hurried to catch up, and didn't bother to exchange hers. No doubt he already knew it. Who didn't?

The tunnels took a series of sharp twists and turns, and a downhill plunge, before Otterpaw seemed satisfied with their destination. "In there," he whispered, motioning towards a slim crack in the wall. pebble slipped in, followed by Otterpaw.

They were in a small cave, from what Pebble could see. Two sleeping figures lay stretched out on the floor. The larger one emitted a deep snore.

"You can borrow some moss from my nest," Otterpaw offered, scraping some away from his nest. Pebble just nodded. She had been wrong; the sleepiness had swiftly returned, tenfold. So, with a somewhat intelligible muttered reply, she gratefully sank onto the moss. Her eyelids were too heavy, and slipped closed without permission. She could feel sleep reaching into the depths of her mind, taking over, sending her away with a gentle push.

_Now._


	6. Chapter 6

As it so happened, Pebble's apprentice ceremony was not held the next day- or the day after that, or the day after that one. Dewstar seemed to be stoically ignoring her, like a sulking kit. Otterpaw, between his duties, did his best to try to show her around, but much remained an unexplored mystery to the young she-cat. She struggled to memorize the catacomb tunnels. Her strained memory, after hours of wandering down dark paths, following the twists, the ups, the steep downs, the turns,simply seemed to say _enough_, and would remember no more. Waking up the next mornings, she would only recall a sharp right, curving to the left, choosing the middle tunnel. Some places she could remember with a crystal clarity, and with good reason. One was the route to the main cave. _All paths lead to the main cave. Well, most_, Otterpaw had said. The other was the route to the underground river. It was a majestic place, with a high roof and deep paths carved into the ground by rushing black water. To be exact, there were two rivers. One was swift and cold and sated the thirst of the Clan. The next babbled and bubbled and steamed. It smelled rotten and sulfurous, and was lethally hot. To simply plunge a paw into the wrong river would boil the fur and flesh off the bone. That's what Windpaw, the bratty female apprentice, told her. Pebble tried to keep the other river at healthy distance. The stinking water, however, was CaveClan's pleasurable secret weapon. When the deadly cold of Leafbare struck, the cats had thermally heated caves to recline in. The brave cats even ventured into mildly steaming pools to warm the marrow in their bones if it became too cold.

They had a stark choice; either suffer the fetid stink or suffer the chilling cold. It was not hard to choose.

The other apprentices were nice to her. Windpaw, to put it frankly, put up with her. Stormpaw spoke to her sometimes, and seemed to hold a quiet respect for her. Pebble had a sneaking suspicion it was because she had escaped the lair of the beast. She wanted to tell him that Kiroki was _not_ a monster-she was just misunderstood- but that would not be doing Pebble any favours. Otterpaw was quickly becoming Pebble's closest, or her only, friend. He showed her around, and caught her prey. She hated being useless, but he told her it was only for a little while. He didn't mock her, or make fun of her past. He glared at those who did. Together, they gathered moss for her nest. It grew abundantly on unused cave walls. She trailed after him when his mentor took him to train. Due to his short legs, they had to adapt poses and moves for him, but he didn't seem to mind. Instead of crouching, stalking, and springing on his prey, he shimmied towards it, coiled, himself, and struck like a snake. When mock-fighting, he darted under the opponent's belly, and would bite or heave himself against it. Often he would charge at the other cat- his tiny legs could move quickly if he wanted them to- and bulldoze over them. He had an array of battle-moves, and Pebble would watch him practice with fascinated eyes. She wanted to learn those things, and them practice with Otterpaw. If only Dewstar would hurry up with the apprentice ceremony.

Otterpaw also told her about StarClan. He spoke with none of the contempt Kiroki used. He spoke not of idiotic, bumbling fools, but great heroes, wise and kind. They were the stars the gleamed in the 'Silverpelt' of the night. They were the voices that guided the leaders and their healing cats. Pebble wished that the CaveClan healer would pay some attention to her shoulder. It gave off a faint twinge when she moved sometimes, and protested bitterly in the cold. Pebble could never quite forget the twisted muscle in her shoulder, but no one else, even the attentive Otterpaw, seemed to notice. Perhaps she was just too good at hiding it.

And finally, one sunlit afternoon, the unexpected announcement came.

"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather for a Clan meeting!" The cry echoed down the tunnels and was repeated by all that heard it.

Pebble and Otterpaw were trying to catch fish when the cry reached their ears. Stormpaw had reported a sighting of a murky shape in the water while he was drinking, and the two cats had decided to try their luck. Pebble managed to catch one by swiping it out of the water with her long forelegs. Otterpaw had remained unlucky. They were both marvelling at the slimy, limp fish when the raucous noise began to bounce off the river cave walls. Otterpaw was instantly able to pick the message out of the cacophony of words.

"A meeting!" he exclaimed, glancing at Pebble and smiling crookedly. Then the little tom was off running, and Pebble, with a tingle of excitement,was dashing after him.

Most cats were already gathered in the gloomy chamber by the time Pebble arrived. They were crowding around a single focal point, and as she grew closer, she could see just who were attracting all the attention. Dewstar's kits, the regal- despite her unusual name- Splatterkit and the burly Redkit. They were popular with the Clan, and the older apprentices speculated that they would get the best mentors. Dewstar's cherubs deserved the best.

For a moment she felt jealous. It was her special day too, wasn't it? Did they have more right to a better mentor than she? Why? But Otterpaw calmed her by pressing his brown fur against hers and pushing her away.

"Maybe they'll make me a warrior, and you can be my apprentice," Otterpaw said, and she knew he was only half-joking.

"Maybe you'll grow a decent pair of legs, shorty," Pebble said lightly, dismissing her hope. She knew her mentor would probably be cruel and train her poorly. She'd come to accept her lot, a long time ago. Maybe it wasn't a very good lot, but mostly she was glad to have one at all.

Dewstar sauntered into the cave, lips curved in a small smile. Moonlily, his beautiful silver-furred mate, trailed behind him. The pair had only eyes for their kits. The she-cat peeled away to purr and fuss over her latest litter, while the leader strolled along to the head of the gathering.

"Attention, attention," he called, gingerly lowering himself to his stomach. The deputy, Grassblade, looked faintly annoyed at having his line stolen. The orange tom, in his haste to cut to the chase, plowed on and Grassblade, though trying at every opportunity, did not get a word out. Dewstar didn't notice and beamed his way through it all.

"Welcome, CaveClan," he began. This was the turning point; his small smile was starting to take on a more maniacal edge.

"You all should know why we're here. It's one of the most important days in a young cat's life. And so, Splatterkit, Redkit, and Pebble too, step forwards and the ceremony can begin. That's right, good kits."

Pebble rose to her paws and trotted to the front of the crowd. She could feel Otterpaw winking behind her.

"Splatterkit, from this moment forwards, you shall be known as Splatterpaw. Grassblade, your loyalty and hard work is honoured among the Clan, and I hope that you will pass down your knowledge to this bright and beautiful young she-cat as your apprentice."

Splatterpaw bounced to her paws and bumped noses with her new mentor, who looked rather unsurprised by it all. Splatterpaw was grinning, and the whole Clan chanted her name. Pebble sort of muttered it under her breath. Her stomach was reeling with nerves.

Dewstar cleared his throat. "Redkit, from this moment forwards, you shall be known as Redpaw. Wildclaw, your strength and your courage set you apart from the Clan. Use these skills to mentor strapping Redpaw here as best you can."

A large tabby tom stooped to touch his nose to Redpaw's. Pebble recognized him as the one to shoulder aside the massive rock that blocked the hole of horrors.

"And finally, Pebble. From this moment forwards you shall be called Pebblepaw. Thistletooth, she is now yours to train as you see fit."

_I _shall_ be called Pebblepaw_, she thought to herself, hiding a grin that threatened to breach her lips. _At last._ The apprentice turned, searching for the pale tabby that was now her mentor. The blue-eyed she-cat was delicately picking her way through the Clan. When she reached Pebblepaw, she reluctantly bumped her rosy pink nose to the young gray cat's.

"And that adjourns the meeting," Dewstar announced with a flick of his royal tail. The gathered cats dispersed. Pebble trotted after Thistletooth, and heard the scurry of Otterpaw's legs as he scampered over to join them. His mentor, Jaggedstripe, trailed behind them.

"Well," Thistletooth said mildly. "What are we going to start with?"

Otterpaw bumped his shoulder against Pebblepaw. "We have to go find a fish." He grinned, and she suddenly remembered the prey they'd left behind in their hurry to get to the meeting.

Thistletooth waved them ahead with their tail. "Whatever. Then you can both clean out the old Elder's den. No one's been in there for moons, not since they put old Throeclaw down the chute."

Jaggedstripe reached the group, nodding nostalgically. "I remember that," he said, easing himself into a more comfortable position. "Anyway, go ahead. The Elder's den isn't in any great rush." The two mentors shared a _prrup_ of laughter.

Pulling a face at Otterpaw, Pebblepaw raced away. The tunnels were growing darker, but she could see her shadow dancing on the walls beside her as she ran.

Throwing gravel behind her, she scrambled down the tunnel that lead to the rivers. On the ceiling, strange bugs with glowing tails lit up the stone expanse. The reflections shivered in the waters. Pebblepaw slowed to a trotted, and a puffing Otterpaw caught up with her. His breath was too short for conversation, so they simply walked together until they came upon the remains of Pebblepaw's catch.

Both apprentices stopped and stared. There was little left of what was once a fish. A few thin bones, scraps of slimy skin and tiny morsels of thick flesh. Clinging to the remnants of the meal was a familiar scent. It was a rotten, musky, feline odour that Pebblepaw instantly recognized as Kiroki. She had been here, and she had stolen Pebblepaw's prey. Was this the favour she demanded in return? No. Pebblepaw rebuked the thought. A fish was too small, too trivial. In time to come, Kiroki would ask for, or simply take, something she saw fit to repay the favour. This, the apprentice instinctively knew, was not the time. The fish was merely to placate her until that certain day arrived.

Otterpaw could not place the scent. At least he was blissfully innocent. "Something stole your fish," he growled, scuffing the bones under his paw.

"It's alright," Pebblepaw said, scanning the surrounding darkness for lurking eyes. She tried to keep her pelt from bristling. "We can go now."

"But-" Otterpaw started to speak indignantly, but she interrupted him.

"Now," she insisted, whisking around and fleeing the scene at a steady trot. Otterpaw peered after her and forgot to close his mouth. Only as she receded out of sight did Otterpaw, with a final kick at the fish scraps, follow after her. Wrinkling his nose, he remembered they had an Elder's den to clean.

* * *

**Sorry, people. I know. I kept you waiting for _ that_? Dial-up is painful. You can blame my holiday for it. I'll try to write up and post another chapter soon. Maybe one with a bit more action in it, hmm?**


	7. Kiroki

**Thought you might like a little something like this.**

* * *

She shifted uncomfortably. The stone was hard and cold beneath her, and she missed her carpet of bones. Besides that, her mouth tasted of fish. It was not a flavour she, in particular, relished, but the consistency of such a meal was the true horror. Thick and cold as mud.

_Ah,_ Kiroki thought to herself, sweeping her long tail over the rock just to hear the embedded fangs skitter and hiss. _At least I have eaten. At least I needn't sluice meat from the pelts of still-warm cats. At least I need not gnaw on the bones of dead, forgotten creatures. Thanks, Pebble._

The large feline smiled grimly at the mere thought of the small gray she-apprentice. Her work with CaveClan's latest asset was not yet finished. Kiroki suspected it would not be for a long time. She simply needed to formulate the perfect plan. It was there, waiting, for someone to stumble upon it. Kiroki just had to discover it. In the mean time, she mused, she would appoint herself CaveClan's personal poltergeist. The arrogant fools could use a strong dose of good old terror. Maybe a night alone in the eternally dark pit. She herself had spent more than a few down there, and look how well she'd turned out.

Life was going to get good. After an age of cowering the darkness, things would start turning her way. Or she'd turn it things _her _way _herself_. Gone was the passive, scrawny kit they'd shoved mercilessly down a dark, reeking shaft. Gone was the adolescent who'd botched her kills and swooped upon the tidbits they dropped her. Here stood a cold-hearted, ravaged beast, who devoured the flesh of her kin, and continued to perfect the art of silent assassination. She wore her scars with pride. She planned to acquire more, and inflict some herself. Pebble, she knew, was somehow going to help her. She could not refuse her, not Kiroki. Pebble was the key.

The reclining cougar did not consider that fact that, when the time came, Pebble might rebuke her commands. The Clans were going to teach her to accept the higher power, and then Kiroki would exploit it that acceptance. She'd exploit anything, to get her perfect revenge. _But what cat wouldn't?_ she asked herself. She couldn't plot anything, anymore, without a constant niggle of guilt and doubt. The niggle had a soft gray pelt and innocent blue eyes, but Kiroki was teaching herself to ignore it. She was shoving a rock wall, inch by inch, between her and those useless emotions. Before long, she'd be all but immune.

Kiroki glanced over the lip of the ledge. Cats milled below her, and their babbling mouths constantly, incessantly moved, but she could not hear their words. If they looked up, they would certainly be able to see her. But, being as stupid as they were, CaveClan cats never looked up. It was one of their numerous faults. She could spend all day, laboriously listing them all, but there was not ponit in that. Nothing had a point without an audience. That day when she had captured Pebble was the first day she had spoken in...years. Before she discovered the escape hatch, Kiroki had never felt the need to converse with her prey. She was more driven to consume it.

She could kill with leisure, now, and talk whenever she felt like it. That hole was more than an escape from an underground cave. It was an escape from the shackles that Dewstar had placed on her. She was finally, totally free.

_Yes, my friend, life is going to get _very _good._

* * *

**If you're good little reviewers, you might get some more intervals like this. Wink wink nudge nudge.**


	8. Chapter 7

**Warning: this chapter contains graphic content. You don't have to read it if you don't want to. Seriously.**

* * *

Pebblepaw's apprenticeship did not go quite as she had feared. Thistletooth, on one count did not entirely ignore her and sometimes even made an effort to mentor her. Otterpaw, she liked to think, was her true mentor. Thistletooth was just there to be traditional. Being mentored by another apprentice seemed _unthinkable_ to the Clans. There were a lot of things that fell into that category, according to the Warrior code. These cats were not soft. They lived a harsh life, ruled by a dictating StarClan. That's what it seemed to Pebblepaw. Maybe it was because she was born outside of the cult, and was slowly being introduced to their preposterous customs and ideas. Maybe it was because the Clanners had been born inside of the cult and had grown up with the preposterous customs and ideas. They'd never known anything else, while she, for a short time, had. And that made all the difference.

Otterpaw did not share her truth, she didn't dare voice her opinions. Not she, who stood on an already precarious pedestal. The smallest nudge was enough to send her tumbling to the ground. So she endured the strange ways and did her best to embrace them. Not all the Clan bought it, but even Pebblepaw herself was starting to believe.

Jaggedstripe and Thistletooth spent plenty of time together, which of course encouraged pair exercises. During these, they could explore the territory by themselves. Each task was a competition. Pebblepaw, with her lack of knowledge and experience, often lost out. She was still thin, with weaker muscles than any of her fellow apprentices, even the young Redpaw and Splatterpaw. Hunger had taken its toll and was reluctant to leave her. Even now that she could catch her own prey, there was always hunger lurking in her stomach, snarling at her for _more_, always _more_.

"Pebblepaw." A paw prodded her ribs. "Pebblepaw." Another jab, harder this time. "Pebblepaw, get up!" The prods manifested into a shove. Pebblepaw moaned and rolled onto her side, flicking open one bleary eye. Splatterpaw peered down at her and grinned.

"Get up, lazy bones," she said, placing one paw on the other apprentice and shaking her. Pebblepaw thrashed, and eventually managed to lurch to her feet.

"I _am_ up," she replied indignantly. Splatterpaw rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, you really looked like it," she snorted, flicking a friendly tail over Pebblepaw's shoulders.

"But anyways, if you want to come on our adventure, then stop sleeping and follow me!" she squeaked, padding over to Redpaw, Otterpaw and Stormpaw. Jaggedstripe stood beside them. He had somewhat reluctantly agreed to chaperone them as they explored the tunnels. _Honing our instincts_, they'd chorused, beaming at him from the entrance to the warrior den. Thistletooth had given him the _look_ from her nest. 'You go," she'd ushered, resting her chin on one small white paw.

So he'd gone, and hoped he would not regret it. The apprentices bounced on their paws as the last straggler was rounded up.

They chatted as he led away from the main cavern. Stormpaw brushed past him to trot in front.

"Today," the gray tom announced, "we explore the little traversed eastern catacombs and caves."

Cheers accompanied his words, and the younger cats surged forwards. Jaggedstripe followed at a leisurely pace behind.

Pebblepaw skipped along beside Otterpaw. He flashed her a grin that was hard to see in the dimming light. He clearly had no idea why they were here either. Stormpaw and Splatterpaw seemed to be the only ones with any true aim.

"Where are we going?" Pebblepaw asked. The two threw identical looks over their shoulders.

"Anywhere!" Stormpaw exclaimed.

"As long as it gets us out of our duties!" Splatterpaw whispered. They all laughed, and continued to trot into the darkness.

OoO

Kiroki watched as the raucous group clattered into her spacecious cave, throwing pebbles and stones off of the walkway. They quailed a bit, when they saw the gaping chasm looming beside their ledge. The large feline had to smother a childish giggle. Fear amused her. After years of enduring her own torture, the slightest thing was liable to set her off. But that wouldn't do, with quarry so close. She wouldn't want to frighten the pretties off, would she? She wouldn't want another day with an empty stomach, no. No, no, _no._ Somewhere, _cat_s had crossed the blurred line into the _food_ category. Somewhere, she had stopped thinking of cats as friends and kin, and started to picture them as things for slaughter, things to kill for her own amusement. They were to sate the hunger in her stomach and the pain in her heart. Cats were merely ants to crush beneath her paws.

But then she saw Pebble. That cat was somehow different from the rest. A kindred spirit. One who had also suffered at the claws of CaveClan, but she had not suffered nearly enough. Kiroki would have to hurt her and make her suffer some more, but discreetly. CaveClan would have to appear the perpetrator. The kit seemed far too attached to those awful cats. But she'd see sense. Even if it took weeks, moons, seasons, years. Kiroki was an ambushing predator. She knew how to wait. _But for how long?_

The patrol moved deeper into the cavern. Trailing behind them was a large silver tabby tom. His tail was flicking with impatience. His eyes were narrowed, shoulders slouching with boredom.

Purrrrfect," Kiroki whispered to herself. Her velvety voice rolled smoothly over the elongated _rrr's. _One of things she could never understand was just how she had come to wield such a soft, sleek voice. Her unusual heritage had bestowed her with cunning, patience, gangly legs, a too-long body, joint pains, lethally sharp claws, eyes that saw better in the darker than any other pair, and a soft, feminine voice. She could laugh at the hilarity, but she was sure she'd already used that line before.

"I could use a tool."

With the silent stealth of the mountain lion, she slipped off her her rock perch. _She was so hungry. Maybe she could have just a nibble. A mouthful or two. Perhaps a whole little cat, to herself? _The mere thought of dripping red flesh had saliva accumulating in her mouth. The apprentices were bounding around all over her cave, sticking their noses where they did not belong. The tool would wait. While she devoured her meal, listening to his hearty squeals, she would plan how to use him. The little cat closest to her, the reddish one, would do. He was well-rounded, bordering heavily on fat. He would be nummy, she decided. Of their own accord, her claws unsheathed themselves and tried futilely to bury themselves in the ground. Her stomach bewailed its agreement.

Kiroki snuck through the shadows, watching the plump tom bat a rock across the ground. Her barbed tail swished across the ground. There were some who believed the stalk, the chase and the pounce were the best parts. Not she. She loved to stalk and run. But devouring the meal was the best, listening to their anguished little whimper and knowing that she held the power to do away with their lives if she wished it.

The plump tom perked his round little ears. He had emerald-green eyes. If she were not mistaken, he was Dewstar's son. Things were going too perfectly to describe, she thought to herself.

He didn't even suspect a thing.

_Crouch_. Kiroki sank into a familiar crouch, wiggling her haunches a little.

_Assess_. The red tom, bless his dear little heart, was innocent. He was dabbing a paw at a small crack in the ground.

_Ready, set...pounce._ She threw herself at her target, with that feral snarl she loved so much. Rather, it was the fear on his face that she loved, not the sound that enduced it, but those were minor technicalities.

_Disable_. She crashed into the tom, who let out a yelp of surprise. She sank her teeth into one meaty hind leg and wrenched. All at the same time, the bone popped out of its socket and broke with a crunch. The tom's eyes, such a beautiful green shade like his dear father's, were wide and misty. He had gone into shock. That was not good. She wanted to hear him scream. Raking claws down his side, opening a neat row of gleaming red wounds, proved hopeless.

_Hide._ The other cats had heard the commotion. They would be on her soon, hissing and spitting with rage. She'd be driven to distraction if that happened, and the prey would have time to drag itself away. Seizing his scruff in her mouth, perhaps biting a little harder than need be, she melted backwards into the shadows. Kiroki pressed herself against the wall and scuttled sideways until she found the crack in the wall. The feline backed into it. They'd never find her here, in this tiny nook. Or so she hoped.

_Feed._ Her stomach was shrieking now, in its eagerness. But she had to snap it out of its shock, to elict such harmonious, tortured noises. Maybe more pain was needed in this equation.

Kiroki placed a protective paw on its heaving stomach. Then her teeth found the tip of the tom's tail. It was trembling. She bit down as hard as she could. The tom jerked beneath her paws, but she continued to clench her jaws as tightly as she could, twisting, tearing wrenching. The cougar slowly loosened her grip, and moved her fangs closer to the base of its tail. She bit down again, and heard a gurgle of pain in the prey's throat. The tail flopped from her jaws. They were sticky with saliva and blood. Kiroki restrained a laugh.

The reddish tom began to struggle. He seemed to be hissing threats and curses under his breath. Kiroki gently placed a paw on his dislocated, crushed leg. His eyes went wide and his breath died away in a small squeak. He was, Kiroki thought, with a certain tang of glee, no longer in shock. He was perfectly aware of everything that happened around him and to him. It was time to start the feast.

The darkness was the only audience to her meal. As she bit into the soft flesh of his stomach, only the darkness saw. When she peeled the pelt away from the succulent flesh, no one uttered a protest. There was only the lion, her prey, and the darkness that smothered all with its heavy caress.

His flesh was bright and dripping, she would later recall. He shrieked as she bit a mouthful away. The sound bounced off the walls around them. She took more, suddenly ripping it away with a frenzy. His legs thrashed, even after she broke them all. His tail whipped her until she tore it off and gulped it down.

_StarClan, you fools, I hope you see me now. See what I can do._

She wasn't sure when the tom died. Maybe it was when she emptied the cavern between his ribs of its flesh and muscles. Maybe it was when too much of his blood had seeped into a red puddle on the ground. Maybe his life simply seeped out the various wounds scattered upon his person. When she woke up in the morning, he was dead. All that remained was a picked over skeleton, with a cracked skull lying a few metres away. Scraps of his gingerish fur was scattered all over the tiny cave. Most of it was caked with dried blood. Languidly, Kiroki reached over and wrenched a bone away from the ribcage. She cracked it open and began to suck the marrow out. It was cold, but thick and juicy.

She knew she had no more time for leisure. Picking up the half-crushed skull by what was left of its ear, she bounded cheerfully into the cavern. It was deserted, as she had hoped. There was only a crusty puddle of red, which she stooped to lick up. Then she continued dutifully on her way. She had a skull to deliver to his leadership himself, and she meant to savour every moment.

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**I didn't mean to kill Redpaw. Just slipped out,honest. Was this too graphic? Should I raise the rating? Tell meeee!**


	9. Chapter 8

Pebblepaw sat hunched in her nest. Well, it was less of a nest and more like a hunk of stale, flattened moss, but she seemed unwilling to leave it. Outside her den, Kiroki was lurking, with blood on her paws. She could be waiting for another innocent to wander by her. She wouldn't hesitate to swoop upon them and gobble them down. Alive and yowling. Pebblepaw repressed a shudder. Splatterpaw sat, eyes dead and hollow, beside her.

_Redpaw yelped as a large tawny shape hurtled into him. The yelped turned to a squeal as the shape bared its fangs and sank them into his leg. Kiroki wrenched her head. There was a pop, a crunch. Redpaw collapsed onto the ground. Splatterpaw was screaming, a high, thin sound. Redpaw's eyes were wide. Kiroki's were narrowed. Pebblepaw couldn't move. She didn't want to. Kiroki cats a furtive glance around the cavern. Then she backed into the shadows, Redpaw dragging limply over the ground. His green eyes were very, very wide. That was the last thing she saw before he was swallowed by the darkness._

_Moments, minutes later, anguished screams shattered the air._

Pebblepaw couldn't stop reliving the red apprentice's final moments. Over and over, his dying, tortured shrieks echoed in her ears. She was powerless to stop it.

_Redpaw yelped as a large tawny shape-_

Otterpaw trotted into the den. His fur was dirty and unkempt, just like hers. His face was haggard, but unlike the two she-cats, he was not afraid to venture outside the den and continue his duties.

"You two," he growled. Pebblepaw raised her head to stare at him with a mild curiosity. For a moment, she saw him, before being plunged back into her memories.

_Kiroki wrenched her head. Splatterpaw was screaming, screaming, screaming..._

Otterpaw gave both the she-cats a tap on the nose with one polite claw.

Pebblepaw blinked. Her vision swam. One moment she was standing, with a gaping mouth and horror in her eyes, and the next she was curled in her lumpy, stale nest. Otterpaw was frowning down at her. His fur was bristling. Why was it bristling? His eyes were wild.

"Come with me," he insisted. Pebblepaw roused herself. Splatterpaw gave a moan and clambered heavily to her paws. Her eyes were not quite as empty as before.

Otterpaw rushed out of the den. _Outside? Do I have to?_ Pebblepaw asked herself, but followed despite herself. She was infected by his excitement. Splatterpaw slouched after them, and was soon left behind. She didn't look like she cared. She didn't look like she cared about much at all. Her face was barren.

Voices grew louder as they neared the main cavern. Hisses and threats reached their ears. Someone was yowling a string of vile promises. The noise grew to a cacophony when they entered. Most of the Clan was gathered beside one curved wall of the cave. Some even appeared to be trying- futilely- to climb up it. Pebblepaw saw why. She saw why and immediately wanted to flee back to the apprentice's den.

_Kiroki gave a violent twist of her head. Blood sprayed across her muzzle, her pelt, anything it could reach. A drop landed near Pebblepaw and she stared at it with fascination. It gleamed wet and red. She wanted to look away, but she could only divert her gaze between the splash and the bloody scene in front of her. She should help Redpaw. Why wasn't she helping him? Why?_

From a thin ledge on the cave wall, Kiroki peered down at the clump of cats. Blood was smeared across her chest and painted her muzzle. She was grinning, and her teeth were red too.  
"Send me Dewstar, and I'll give you back your precious apprentice," she called. Cats snarled various rude answers in reply. Kiroki screwed up her face a and spat down at them. Her spittle was foamy and pink.

Dewstar bustled into the cavern shortly after, wearing a bemused expression. He didn't seem to be aware of Kiroki until she spat at him, too.  
"Murderer!" he screeched, flinging him at the wall. He scrabbled at it was frenzied claws. Kiroki looked faintly peeved.

"Now I'm a murderer. Am I? Just now? After years of you feeding me the cats you wanted disposed of, I'm only now a murderer? Might I also add, you're looking very hypocritical this morning, dear leader sir."  
"You killed my son!" Dewstar shrieked, staring up at her with furious emerald eyes.  
"And I ate him, too," Kiroki replied, as if remarking on a tasty piece of prey.  
"You'll have to give Moonlily my thanks. She did a wonderful job of fattening him up for me." She smacked her lips together with relish. Dewstar simply stared at her blankly, slowly opening and closing his mouth without a word.  
"But where are my manners? Best give her my condolences too. Terribly sorry. Dreadful, wasn't it? Dreadful. But awfully delicious, might I add."  
_Pebblepaw saw red. Red splashed across the floor. Red streaked Kiroki's fur. Redpaw twitched on the floor. Redpaw disappeared into the shadows. His eyes were red- no, they were green, weren't they?_  
Dewstar gave up searching for the right words. An anguished howl broke free of his lips. CaveClan cowered away from him.  
"Shut up. It's not all bad. I have a present for you, see?" Kiroki tossed a vaguely circular shape off the ledge. It landed amidst shrieks. Cats scattered to escape being hit, before crowding around it again. Pebblepaw squeezed her way underneath and around cats until she could see what lay despondently on the ground. Then she retched.  
_Redpaw gave a yelp-_

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**I know it's a short chapter. Next will probably be longer. If you don't know what the 'vaguely circular shape' is...it's a skull.**


	10. Chapter 9

The night breeze, crisp and cold, ruffled her fur. It was refreshing, just like the air she sucked into her lungs with great gulps. One could not really appreciate the freshness of the air until one had spent too long in the catacombs with the stale air and sulfurous stink. Pebblepaw had not been outside since what had been dubbed 'the accident'. Once out, she never wanted to go back in.

The moon hung, full and swollen, in the indigo sky. Stars, or the _silverpelt_, gleamed cold and indifferent. Faint wisps of clouds drifted melancholy on invisible lazy currents.

CaveClan's party moved at a slow but stately pace. It was time for what they called a 'Gathering', Pebblepaw had discerned. Otterpaw had been very vague about the whole topic. She learned things in fits and snatches; all four of the Clans gathered at a full moon; leaders discussed businesses and happenings, but only told as much as they wanted to; the leaders always decided who was to go to the meetings; clouds over the moon was a bad omen; and _absolutely no fighting!_ They met at a place simply named the StoneArch. No one really told her anything about it, and frowned at her as if she should know when she asked.

"You'll see," Otterpaw had said. "You'll see."

And eventually, she did. Dewstar hadn't organized the Gathering party. He'd evidently decided that anyone who wanted to go could invite themselves along. Not many cats were willing to linger in the tunnels with the rogue Kiroki hanging around, and Pebblepaw counted herself among them. So the group was a large one, but no one was surprised on that front. Hardly anyone stayed behind, even the queen with her 5-moon-old kit. No one's safety was assured in the catacombs. Dewstar had even set a daily patrol, the Kiroki watch. They scoured the tunnels for signs of lioness, but found none.

Kiroki, with the eternal patience of ambush predator, was playing a waiting game. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before her next strike.

It was not long before Pebblepaw caught her first glimpse of the Gathering place. Before she saw it, she heard it; a quiet hiss of water slithering over stone. The cats in her group began to prick their ears and began hurry forwards at the mere sound. The grass began to turn rough and dry beneath her paws. In some places, ridges of stone grazed her paws. At long last the fabled StoneArch drew into view. It was silhouetted against the night, a hulking dark shape over a dark slice in the ground-a river. Spindled rock reached into the sky, before dipping gently back to the ground on the other side of the rushing water. CaveClan, it appeared, was the first Clan to arrive. The area was deserted. Dewstar, his vivid orange pelt wild, began to pick his way carefully up a worn path on the curving rock's face.

Otterpaw lead her to sit in front of the StoneArch. Before them, a steep bank rose to hide the black water. In the distance, hills and forest rose up before them. A distant lake gleamed and glittered silver in the moonlight. In the direction they'd come from, jagged peaks impaled the inky sky. Forests and sparse plains dotted with trees rolled before the looming mountains.

ForestClan was the next to arrive. Otterpaw could pick them out by their scent alone; it was an earthy tang that reeked of leaves and moss. Their leader was a wiry black tom. He greeted Dewstar with a cheerful chirp, but the ginger tom only responded with a slight twitch of his whiskers and a grunt.

A beautiful golden she-cat bounded over to sit beside the pair. She had dazzling, erratic stripes splashed across her pelt. They were tiny and grizzled, zigzagging back and forth in minute lines.  
"Hi!" she exclaimed, flopping onto her side and grinning broadly at the other apprentices.

"Who's this, Otterpaw?"

"Featherpaw, this is Pebblepaw, and Pebblepaw…this is Featherpaw," Otterpaw said.

Pebblepaw rasped out a greeting. For apparently no reason at all, the appearance of the charming  
ForestClan apprentice had tied a knot in her stomach. The knot shivered and fluttered weakly as Featherpaw lifted one dainty white paw to her mouth. She drew a vividly pink tongue over it, then flicked it over a pair molten-gold ears.

"Where's Wishpaw and her cohorts?" grumbled Featherpaw.  
"They are so late…again."

The ForestClan cats dispersed into a cloud of CaveClan warriors. Soon, despite the silver moonlight, she could no longer distinguish individuals from the two. The air was heavy with the scents of sulfur and forest.  
It was easy to see the FallowClan arrive. On the other side of the dark river a large group raced towards them. At first they were plunging shadows, before manifesting into solid shapes as they crested a small hill. They were led by a white she-cat, her pelt mottled with shades of black and gray.  
"That's Swiftstar," Otterpaw told her. "She hasn't been here for a few moons because she had kits." He wrinkled his nose. "Jaggedstripe says it's wrong for leaders to have kits. They can't afford to divide their time."

Pebblepaw shrugged. The mottled group had almost reached the StoneArch. Several stopped on the opposite bank, while some plunged down the slope into the river. They swam with confident strokes, though small waves buffeted their slick forms. It was chilling water; thin sheets of ice had established themselves on the sluggish shallows. As they hauled themselves up the shore, they shook their wet pelts with vigor. A few fat drops splashed Pebblepaw, and she forced herself not to flinch while the water sank through her pelt and bit at the flesh beneath.

What must have been 'Wishpaw and her cohorts' padded towards them. She was a rough gray colour, like un-hewn granite, and flecked with tiny dark specks. Four other apprentices clumped around her.  
"Wishpaw!" Featherpaw purred, heaving herself to her paws and brushing her pelt against her friend's, despite its dripping-wet condition. The other four she-cats surrounded her, purring and murmuring excitedly. They broke apart and seated themselves around the CaveClan apprentices.

"Oceanpaw couldn't come. He didn't clean out the Elder's den like Snowwhisker told him to," Wishpaw said sadly, leaning against a she-cat with exotic creamy ginger golden stripes. She nodded in agreement.

"Who's your new friend?" one of the black she-cats asked.

"Oh." Featherpaw blinked, as if she had forgotten.

"Everyone, meet Pebblepaw!" she squeaked, thumping a paw over the young apprentice's back.

"Hi," she coughed. Otterpaw twitched his whiskers at her in silent sympathy.

"I'm Squeakpaw," the black she-cat said. She had thick fur, which was drying in spikes and clumps.

"And I'm Applepaw," chimed the smaller black cat beside her.

"I'm Softpaw. But I hate my name." The cat that spoke had sandy-ginger fur and swirling streaks. She  
didn't look soft, as her name suggested; there was steely glint in her tawny eyes, and beneath her sodden pelt, there were lean muscles.

"Don't be. You're probably have an awesome name like Softpool or Softfeather!" Squeakpaw exclaimed. "I'll probably be lumped with Squeakfern or Squeakheart. That's what I heard my mother say!"

Wishpaw giggled, and Softpaw had to smile.

"Swiftstar is Squeakpaw and Applepaw's mother," Otterpaw whispered.

"I'm Honeypaw," the creamy she-cat murmured.

"Well, you know I'm Pebblepaw," she said, biting her lip. Was this night going to be filled with awkward introductions and simple chatter?

With a crescendo of yowls, StormClan arrived and launched themselves over the shallow crevice, heedless of the bridge. Most made the leap, but some crashed into the steep bank and slid back down to the water amidst laughs and jeers. A few dignified elders slowly strolled over the StoneArch, peering down at the fallen cats with something akin to distaste.

A burly reddish tom bounced over to the group of apprentices. He had striking white markings splashed over his chest. A white cat followed him. Her fur curled in waves, like no pelt Pebblepaw had ever seen before. Behind the two, a disgruntled russet tom dragged himself up the bank, soaked to the skin. They introduced themselves as Rushingpaw, Dreampaw and Reedpaw. The dripping wet tom sat uncomfortably close to Pebblepaw; she could feel a cold chill radiating off his drenched pelt.

"So…do the leaders speak now?" Pebblepaw asked. The other cats stared at her, and one rolled their eyes. She couldn't help but feel like an outsider, like the rogue she had been, adopted into in alien society she still did not understand.

"Well, no," Dreampaw said in a lulling murmur. "They only speak when the moon reaches the pinnacle of its journey."

She flicked her tail, gesturing at the silver orb in the sky. Pebblepaw's heart sank. Hours would have to pass before the leaders began to share their news. Hours filled with chatter, gossip, snippets of news…how could Otterpaw stand it?

Her friend, she realised, not longer sat behind her. He and the other toms were sparring, grinning to themselves, and hissing mock-threats at each other. Pebblepaw could not help but feel slightly betrayed.

He abandoned me to the wolves! she thought, sneaking a sly glance at gossiping she-cats. This may call for evasive action.

Pebblepaw rose to her paws and slunk away. She didn't know where she was going, until she spotted Splatterpaw sitting at the head of the large group by herself. Pebblepaw forced a small smile onto her lips as she sat down beside her.

"Hey," she greeted. Splatterpaw looked up, and murmured a reply. She did not invoke a conversation, and that suited Pebblepaw just fine. They simply sat side by side, silent. Splatterpaw was thinking of her brother, as she always did. Pebblepaw could see it in her eyes.  
When she finally looked up at the sky, the moon had reached the highest place in the sky. She could hear a she-cat pointing this out to the other leaders.

"I'm going first," Swiftstar meowed imperiously.

"Then it's my turn," Ebonystar said. His voice was indifferent.

"I'll be third." The silver she-cat who spoke could only have been StormClan's dazzling leader, Silverstar.

Dewstar said nothing, only gave another one of his noncommittal grunts.

"Cats of all Clans!" Swiftstar called. Her voice reverberated with power. Cats, after a final excited murmur, fell silent.

"Prey is running well," the mottled she-cat announced. "There has been a badger sighted on our territory." Here, she flicked a small smirk at Silverstar.  
"StormClan may want to keep an eye out for it. My warriors chased it off the island and onto the land bridge."

"They live on an island in a lake. It's connected to the mainland by what they call their 'land bridge'. StormClan's territory is right next to theirs," Splatterpaw whispered.

"ForestClan has coped very well with the blizzard. Newleaf has already brought us prey. Floodwater is heading down the river as the snow on the bank melts." Ebonystar's speech was short and abrupt. He sat down as quickly as he had stood up.

"StormClan has recovered after the recent passing of our late leader, Rainstar. She watches from StarClan. As for the prey, we can find it easily enough. And if you see Blizzardcry wandering around, could you kindly direct her back to us please?" Silverstar asked. She had round green eyes, paler than Dewstar's but just as vivid. She finished, and everyone waited for Dewstar to speak. He was staring blankly at the ground, blinking slowly. Ebonystar nudged him, and he startled.

"Oh," Dewstar muttered. "Well. Near a moon ago, a dead rogue she-cat was found with her kit. Does this belong to anyone?" Dewstar asked, pointing a slim orange paw at Pebblepaw.

"Answers to Pebble," he supplied, looking hopeful.

No one spoke, but eyes seared her pelt. She scuffed her paws in the dirt, watching intently as she coated one white toe in brown. The tips of her ears burned with embarrassment.

"Ah. I see." He cleared his throat. The whole Gathering was silent, until a shrill trill broke the stillness. A dark shape soared over Pebblepaw's head.

"Anyway…you should all be terrified for your lives!" Dewstar declared grandly.  
"Lurking somewhere within our territories is a murdering lioness. She's already killed one of our apprentices. Rather brutal it was. Blood, everywhere…" he trailed off. Swiftstar's gaze was murderous; she glanced at her kits in the crowd.

"Does everyone remember Smallspots? Well…that's where he ended up." Dewstar smiled sadly at the massed cats, before Grassblade swarmed up the StoneArch. He hissed something in the disgruntled leader's ear, smiled sympathetically at the other leaders after shoving Dewstar to the ground.

"That concludes the Gathering!" Swiftstar yowled. Flicking her tail, she turned and bounded on confident paws over the arch. StormClan and FallowClan followed her. ForestClan slunk away, starting to pick a way through the marshy forest. CaveClan sat alone, staring at their leader with shocked expressions. A few were grinning. Grassblade looked infuriated.

Pebblepaw, remembering to close her mouth, turned to Splatterpaw.  
"Did you see their faces?" she crowed. A smile split her lips. It was the first since 'the accident'.

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**StoneArch sounds sort of mythical, don't you think? Anyway, this is the longest chapter out so far. Probably won't post anything tomorrow; more holiday travelling. Lucky me.**


	11. Chapter 10

**On my profile, there's poll about your favorite charries. Vote if you want. I'd love to know your opinion. **

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_Kiroki plotted. In the feeble dark, with shadows quivering on the walls, she plotted. In the twisted depths of her broken mind, she conspired. With each dull thump of her aching heart, she swore revenge. Every breath reeked with fervent promise. She uttered no sound, but her eyes spoke for her. Dark, deep, compelling... Her mouth curled in a sneer, displaying fangs that seemed to retain a certain sheen of red. Her expression hinted she could simply not enunciate the sheer disgust she felt._

_"I will come for you. You know I will. It's only a matter of time...before I strike."_

_Redpaw yelped-_

...

Pebblepaw woke up and tried to quell the shriek that rose up in her throat. She managed to succeed, to some extent; all that escaped was a shrill burble. Splatterpaw grumbled at her and shoved one hindpaw into the gray apprentice's back. She managed to contain the 'oof' that followed the path of her shriek.

The she-cat rose to her paws. Kiroki's dark, gleaming eyes seemed to follow her every movement. They missed nothing, those dark orbs. It was enough to make Pebblepaw's pelt crawl.

After a cautious glance into the dark corridor beyond, she darted outside. She knew it was bad for her training; tomorrow her movements would be slow and clumsy, her brain clouded with fatigue. But her paws itched with dormant energy, and the half-cougar lingered in the back of her mind. The apprentice had to keep to the smaller tunnels and the narrow shafts, for fear that Kiroki lurked behind her, every sinuous movement a mirror of her own. Though her whiskers snagged against the rough rock, no space was too small for Pebblepaw. She was infamous in the Clan for her ability to squeeze into the tightest spots. Though taller than Otterpaw(this in itself was no big feat) she was thin and lanky, and held an uncanny knack for wriggling through any tunnel or crack. Most cats sneered; what use, in the end, was a talent for navigating the smallest of tunnels? It did not catch the prey or feed the kits and queens. Pebblepaw knew, but she didn't bother to enlighten the idiots.

Eventually, tired of her aimless wanderings, she curled up on the tunnel floor. The gravel beneath her served as a poor nest, but her eyes did not care. They fluttered shut, aching and pleading for rest. Constant peering into dim corners and shady caves did _not_ work wonders for one's eyes, Pebblepaw had discovered. Relief always came at the end of the day when she could close her strained eyes.

Sleep stole over the she-cat's calm features. Her nightmare was forgotten, as she drifted away into the lulling oblivion. She was on the verge between wakefulness and black nothing, when her faintly twitching ears heard the voices. Her ears swivelled to catch the faint murmurs. Curiosity arrived at the verge and kindly escorted her back to the living world. She peeled her eyelids open and blinked. The incessant _mumble mumble mumble_, the incoherent, blurred words, annoyed her. She was trying to _sleep_. With that constant backtrack, she'd never slip away again. The voices echoed down the tunnel. Too far away to make out the indistinct conversation, but close enough to be an irritation.

Pebblepaw heaved herself off her side. It was typical, wasn't it? She finally had a chance to sleep, without the never-ceasing nightmares, and she had to be interrupted. Someone had to be holding a conversation at such an indecent hour of the night. Of course. She shook the crumbs of rock off her pelt and trotted silently down the tunnel. The light was hazy, but seemed to recede into darkness as she carried on. The voices grew louder; she heard the rough, growling timbre of Jaggedstripe. Otterpaw idolized him, she knew; he was everything the short brown tom could ever hope to be- strong, courageous, handsome, skilled. The next voice was also familiar. It dripped and oozed like honey. It was sleek, velvety. It flowed like water over smooth stone. Pebblepaw recognized every nuance. It sent shock dripping through her veins. Fear quivered in her heart.

"Do you value your life?" Kiroki hissed. Jaggedstripe stuttered a vague reply, and the mountain cat snarled.

The small she-cat crept closer. She was irresistibly drawn. Shadows danced on the walls beside her. The tunnel veered sharply to the right, and Pebblepaw slowly curved around it.

Kiroki had her back turned to the tunnel. Her spine was arched, her dusky fur bristling, but her voice was unbroken and smooth. Jaggedstripe cowered before her leer, a gash on his nose oozing crimson blood. One brown paw covered his throat and pressed him to the rough rock wall. His breathing was hoarse in his throat.

"I asked you a question!" Kiroki growled, tensing her foreleg.

"Yes," Jaggedstripe wheezed. "Yes, I do."

Kiroki's paw dropped from his windpipe. "I was hoping to hear that," she purred. "Because if you do, you're going to everything I say." Her tail rasped over the ground as Jaggedstripe gave a shallow nod.

"You see, I need a tool. I saw you, and I thought, well, why not? It seems you're close enough to Pebble to do my bidding without it looking suspicious. Aren't you? Yes, exactly as I hoped. First things are first. In less than a moon...there will be something of a raid. You're not to warn the Clan in any way, understand? That would not be good for the plans." Here, Kiroki inserted a small _prrup_ of laughter, as if the whole thing was an incredibly hilarious ordeal.

"I wont tell, I promise!" Jaggedstripe insisted.

The apprenticce felt like melting back into those shadows, away from the deranged cougar and her insane plans that somehow seemed to include simply, plain little Pebblepaw. Fear rooted her to the spot. Her muscles responded to a foreign power, and Pebblepaw had no power to override it. Every uttered word reached her ears, and stung her heart with fiery claws.

"You see, Pebble is going to disappear. It's convenient, really. The only problem is, I'm afraid no one will go looking for her. That's where you come in. Keep an eye out for her. She'll return to the camp, I know she will. You'll be waiting for her when she does. If she tries to take one step into these caves- then, _snap_, instant mutilation. Injure, but do not kill her, if it comes to that. I still need her for...my later plans." Kiroki giggled, and looked immensely pleased with herself. She began to saunter down a side-tunnel, then paused to level her dark gaze at the tom.

"If you tell _anyone_...it'll be your bones scattered all over that cave. You understand? Good boy. I'm sure you do."

With a flourish of her tail, Kiroki vanished. Jaggedstripe's sides heaved, and his eyes were dark. Pebblepaw's heart stuttered out a frantic rythem, as she fled back down the tunnel.

_Pebble is going to disappear. Snap, instant mutilation. Understand?_

* * *

**That took a bit long, eh? Sorry. .**


	12. Chapter 11

_"There will be one," the voices whispered. Fallenbird didn't know where she was, only that she was dreaming. All around lay piles of bones, discarded and forgotten. All around her, the voices writhed and hissed._

_"There will be one with the power to destroy you all!"_

_The same warning was repeated, over, and over, and over, while Fallenbird felt small and lost on a great dead plains. The sky was clotted with purple clouds, and the light was faint and feeble._

_"There will be one. There will be one with the power to destroy you all!" the voices rasped. "There is one...the one who has come to destroy you."_

Fallenbird woke with a whimper. The smell of herbs clinging to her pelt and nest was normally enough to calm her, but there was the rancid taste of words unsaid on her tongue and her heart refused to slow its frantic stutter.

Stones clattered down the tunnel outside her den. The medicine cat stiffened for a moment, before the tom stuck his bright orange head into the cave's entrance.

"There was a dream!" Dewstar exclaimed, and the tortoiseshell nodded. She hoped she looked calmer than she felt. That was what Dewstar needed: a cool head to soothe his fears.

"Of course," she replied, shaking dried herbs out of her pelt. "There always is."

OoOo

"Teach me to fight!" Pebblepaw begged, sticking her nose into Thistletooth's face. The tabby gave an irritated growl and swipe a paw at her apprentice's head.

"Lesson one: don't annoy me," she snapped, as the blow connected. Pebblepaw staggered away, shooting a sulky glance at the older she-cat.

"I don't want to hunt anymore," she muttered, ignoring Thistletooth's crabby hiss.

"Leafbare's not yet over, and the Clan should not have to pay for your insolence. Kits and queens rely on the prey that you can bring in. Let it not be said I haven't tried to teach you, but StarClan help me, you're impossible some days. The Clans have been in peace for moons. Who'd attack you?"

Pebblepaw opened her mouth, but one look from her mentor cut her reply short.

"_No," _Thistletooth hissed. "Don't say it."

She shut her mouth with a snap, icy eyes glaring at the trees that stood, impassive, before her. Thistletooth had insisted on taking her out to the forest to hunt, heedless of her pleas for battle training.

"You're going to find the fattest piece of prey you've ever caught, and then you're going to give it to Stormpaw after his warrior ceremony. I'm sure I've made myself clear. I'll be waiting right here"- she stabbed a claw into the ground-"when you get back." To illustrate her point, she flopped languidly onto the ground and commenced her daily grooming. Pebblepaw stalked into the forest, swiping dead leaves out of her way. One stuck to her claws and she shook it away with an irritated mutter. She'd find no prey in this state, she knew, but she was content to meander through the forest until it was time for Stormpaw's naming ceremony. She felt safer in the woods, beneath the dappled sunlight; Kiroki had spent too much time in the dark, to ever venture out into the light again.

A bird shrilled at her from a slender branch before launching itself into the air. The undergrowth was silent around her. Thistletooth was not going to be pleased if she went back with nothing but excuses hanging from her jaws. Sighing, the apprentice slithered between the bushes, ears pricked and mouth open to to taste the scents that wafted her way. The she-cat paused beneath the immense gnarled tree simply known as the Old Oak. There was normally a mouse or two scurrying over its bared roots, even in the chill of Leafbare. Birds loved to roost amongst the forked boughs. Some sort of prey ought to be hanging around, despite her loud approach.

A squirrel was sniffing at the crumpled bark on one exposed root. Its bushy tail was one to rival even Dewstar's. It wasn't plump, but then again, what was, in the season of cold and storms? Stormpaw would be pleased, if she could get close enough to snap its fluffy neck. But the prey was twitchy, jerking its head around and clutching an old acorn beneath its paws. It only happened, as Pebblepaw's luck would have it, to be looking the wrong way when she leapt. It saw her in its peripheral vision a moment too late. By the time it tried to run, Pebblepaw already had it caught between her paws. Heartbeats later, its neck was clamped between her jaws. Its body swung limply as the apprentice rose lithely out of her crouch. Thistletooth...well, she wouldn't exactly be pleased, but she'd have no reason to chastise either.

Thistletooth, upon being presented with the prey, only gave a curt nod.

"You'll hurry up, if you don't want to miss the ceremony!" she snapped, bounding away. Pebblepaw, who had just caught her breath, groaned and trotted after her mentor. Her head craned beneath the weight of her catch. There had been no praise, but the rogue kit had expected none. The Clan, however, was bursting with flattery for the soon-to-be warrior. They were bunched outside; the ground was raised and rocky, and Dewstar had a special perch from which he addressed the Clan on such occasions. By the time the mentor and her apprentice arrived, most of the Clan had gathered. Dewstar looked down at his cats with an imperious, impatient look.

"Stormpaw, you may step forwards," he began, motioning the gray tom forward. Pebblepaw sat and dropped her squirrel at her paws.

"Under the watchful eyes of StarClan, you have been trained to become a warrior. I have talked with your mentor and we both agree that it is finally time for you to take your oath. Do you promise to uphold the warrior code and your Clan, and to protect them with your life?"

"I do," Stormpaw promised solemnly.

"To prove your worth as a warrior, you must defeat a fellow apprentice in battle," Dewstar decreed. "My senior warriors and I have picked Pebblepaw as your opponent."

"What?" Pebblepaw hissed, shooting a horrified look first at her mentor and then at her obviously deranged leader. "I can't fight! I can't fight Stormpaw!" She tried to protest, but cats pushed her to the front of the crowd. Some cheered; most greeted her with japes and hisses. Otterpaw offered her a good-natured grin as she was shoved past him. Stormpaw was waiting for her, a confident smile tugging at his lips. He was twice her size and twice her strength. He was a warrior in all but name, and she a green fledgling.

_Help me, StarClan!_

Pebblepaw decided that Stormpw would definitely _not_ be eating that squirrel.

"Commence," the leader announced regally.

"Wait-" Pebblepaw strted to cry, but Stormpaw had already launched himself into the air. The she-cat paused for moment, staring at his outstretched paws and the determined set of his mouth. Then she was scuttling out of his way, pelt bristling, trying to back into the crowd that only pushed her forwards again. Stormpaw landed with snarl, whipping around and locking his narrowed gaze onto her pleading blue eyes. he broke the moment by dropping into a predatory crouch. This time, when he jumped, she was not quick to evade him. The tom bowled into her, crushing her into the ground. His thick fur was in her face, her eyes, her mouth; she couldn't breathe. Her legs were trapped, and though she tried to shove him away, his weight was too much. Was this his plan, to deprive her of oxygen until she blacked out? Until her heart could no longer sustain itself and stopped beating its quiet murmur? At first that seemed the case- until suddenly the weight disappeared. She sucked in a frantic breath, until the scene in front of her, and the shrieks in her ears, stopped it again.

Stormpaw was flying through the air, his scruff clasped between a set of gleaming fangs. Above the fangs lay a pair of dark, maniacal eyes. The eyes belonged to a large dusky feline with broken teeth embedded in the tip of her long twining tail. A pale gray tom with blank blue eyes lay at her feet. The fur on his throat was dark and matted with blood. The Clan was scattering; Dewstar, wailing; Foxfeather and her litter of tiny new kits; her faithful friend Otterpaw, without a backwards glance at the she-cat he left behind. Grassblade was trying his best round everyone up and heard them safely back into the caves. His eyes lingered on Shardeye's broken body, Stormpaw, snarling limply in the jaws of the beast, but passed over her own pelt as if she were invisible. The deputy whirled around and fled, leaving the terrified apprentice rooted to the spot.

Kiroki finished with Stormpaw and tossed him casually aside. He landed with a dull thump, his neck twisted. His eyes were wide open, but they did not blink. The tom twitched, and that was the last Pebblepaw ever saw him move. The cougar turned her attention to the trembling apprentice.

_You see...Pebblepaw is going to disappear._

"Hullo there," Kiroki purred. She swaggered forwards, and Pebblepaw found herself taking a small step backwards.

"Don't...hurt me!" she begged, staring at the blood on her fangs and muzzle. It was no longer a bright red, but turning a russet shade on her brown fur.

"Hurt you? No. I'm simply doing you yet another favour." Kiroki was close enough for Pebblepaw to smell her rancid breath. A scrap of ginger fur was caught between two crooked ivories- Redpaw's, perhaps, or a tuft torn from another hapless victim?

"You don't do favours! You only kill things!" Pebblepaw spat with a venom that surprised her. But her bravado vanished as Kiroki took another menacing step towards her.

"And tell me, kit; when is death not a favour?" Kiroki hissed. Her dark eyes were wild. Her teeth were bared, Pebblepaw noticed, before she leapt. The she-cat was hit with a tremendous force. For all Kiroki's elegant grace, she had a strength that her muscles belied. The two collided into the rock. Pebblepaw heard herself wailing- a thin, tremulous sound. Kiroki was silent. She'd had no use for sound, in all those years in the dark. She had no need for it now. Ambush predators, however, rarely did.

Teeth snapped down roughly onto her scruff and swung Pebblepaw off the ground. The ground tilted dizzily below her. Dimly, she realized Kiroki was running. Distance was greedily swallowed beneath the mountain lion's strong stride. For a moment she raced through a patch of woodland. Bushes and leaves whipped into her face, but were soon replaced by the biting wind.

"_This will make you_," Kiroki whispered through clenched teeth. "_Or this will break you_."

The feline slid to a halt in front of a sharp bank. Foaming water plunged and swirled below. Pebblepaw hung over the void, paws churning no less than her stomach.

"No!" she croaked. "Not down there. Not down there, please-" Her pleading choked in her throat as Kiroki's jaws dropped open. There was nothing above her, and there was nothing below her, for several terrifying moments. But that was not the worst. Nor was it the worst when she splashed into the icy river, struggling and flailing. Gritty water flooded her lungs, and the current tugged and shoved her. Greedily, it sucked her under its foaming surface, then spat her out with distaste.

Even the river did not want the rogue's kit.

Pebblepaw was tossed, like a wet leaf in a storm by the frenzied water. Its chill seeped through her thin pelt and ran icy daggers down her spine. The bank was too steep to climb, and whenever she tried to grip the sandy wall with aching claws, the waters ripped her savagely away. Whenever she could get a breath, she hacked up water. But that was not the worst. Whatever she had suffered, the young cat was doomed to suffer yet more.

The worst began when the waters grew ever choppier. Pebblepaw thrust her head above the surface to suck in a desperate breath. That was when she saw the boulders, raised like jagged fangs over a liquid tongue. The water seethed and crushed itself against the rocks, as if it held a feeble hope of beating them down. But the rocks were immovable, and Pebblepaw was in their way.

The first _crunch_ did not take her by surprise. She saw herself borne towards it at a furious speed. It clipped her shoulder, and sent her tumbling beneath the waves. Oxygen exploded from her mouth in glimmering bubbles. Water took its place, racing down her throat, making her gag and retch. She did not see the second boulder. She smashed into the stone with a silent shriek. The impact drove her upwards and she broke through the surface gasping for want of air. She did not even glimpse the third boulder, nor would she ever recall it. That was when the worst finally arrived.

The collision sent a shock jarring through her body. Black speck dotted her vision, and her mind grew foggy and dim. The apprentice sank through the waves once more, as the specks grew into dots that grew into black oblivion.

_Otterpaw..._she thought, trying to picture his warm brown pelt and failing. _Where were you, Otterpaw? Why does everyone hate me?_

The she-cat's icy eyes fluttered closed. That was the last thing she remembered; simply giving in, letting the river bear her ceaselessly forwards.

Kiroki ate well that night.

* * *

**Don't I love torturing you guys?**


	13. Chapter 12

It was nearly dark when the limp grey bundle washed onto the shore. By the time to FallowClan patrol stumbled upon her, dawn was stretching pink claws across the sky. When finally managed to struggle back to camp- a steep-sided round hill with a crown of wild forest at its base- with her slung over the two tom's supple backs, the morning was progressing well. Heavy, bruised clouds clawed their way through the thick, humid atmosphere. Moisture, like the twolegs' 'perspiration' beaded the three cat's fur. The pale grey she-cat lead the way, winding her way through the thick trees along a worn path. The smaller tom, the calico, panted heavily beneath the sodden dead weight. The muscular tabby ignored his partner's efforts and strolled languidly atop the track with the dappled she-cat's head and shoulders lolling over his back. Small drips of water saturated the dusty path behind them. Perhaps later it would rain, but right then, that was all the liquid the parched earth could find. It many been many long days since the snows had melted, and though it had been a dry Leafbare, that did not make it any warmer.

The FallowClan camp was bustling when their dawn patrol returned. The place the Clan had claimed as a home could not be classified as much; it was simply a hill, and a large, dimpled one at that, littered with shallow nests dug into the windswept turf. Spread out before them was a wide view of rolling green moors. Trees sporadically sprouted in random tufts over the plains. Behind them a vast lake glittered and winked, with a thin strip of sodden ground connecting them to the distant mainland. It was common knowledge, among the Clans, that FallowClan had chosen to eke out a life on the lush green island. They lived on a rich diet of fish, fowl, rabbits and forest-dwelling creatures. Simply judging by their size and health, FallowClan was a fortuitous group. Their current leader, the patched black-and-white she-cat, could not be held accountable for all their success.

Swiftstar herself was lounging in what could be classified as a sunny spot. Her kits tumbled rambunctiously around her, and one dappled she-kit sat proudly on her mother's head. When she saw her patrol return, she shooed them away to her ebony-pelted mate.

"Yes, yes?" she asked, rolling to her paws and shaking moss and grass off her marbled pelt. There was a green stain over one shoulder, and a leaf that she had failed to dislodge quivered behind one pricked ear.

The grey she-cat dipped her head at her leader, as her companions let the half-drowned bundle tumble to the soft ground. Wet sand plopped onto the ground in clumps, but more clung limply to the wet grey fur.

"We found her on the beach," the taller tom said, by way of explanation.

The calico added, "She seems to be breathing."

"I recognize her," an apprentice piped up behind them, scampering over to sniff at the slick grey she-cat. It was one of Swiftstar's elder daughters.

"That's Pebblepaw, from CaveClan."

Swiftstar groaned. "The rogue's kit. Dewstar will freak at us if we don't return his little pet." There was contempt in her voice; she cared little for CaveClan, but their alliance was too important to FallowClan. To drop it for the sake of a kit would be foolish.

"Where's my sister? She can treat the kit and then we send her home. Happy ending for all." Swiftstar's muzzle snapped impatiently around as she searched for Bramblewing's familiar brown pelt. She was not, to put it, the most gracious nor elegant of leaders.

"Here I am," the slim tabby she-cat said, slipping into view. Her pale blue eyes, mere hues darker than Swiftstar's, were fixated on the motionless she-cat.

"We need to move her to my den," Bramblewing insisted. The two toms slung the apprentice over their shoulders. The calico grimaced under the weight, though it was mere fox-lengths to the shallow depression in the hill that had been claimed as the medicine den. Small holes and been scooped into the ground for nests and tidily stored herbs. A few were noticeably devoid of either.

Once more, the apprentice was deposited on the grass. Bramblewing hummed to herself and ran a thoughtful paw down the she-cat's spine. At first glance, she appeared to be fine, with tiny mere scratches scattered over her body; the only sign of her rough journey. But on a closer inspection, a trained eye could notice the thin cuts that seemed to run deeper than others, the long winding slice on her stomach, and the gory gash on the back of her head. It was a mess of red flesh and crimson blood. Bramblewing hoped that the glimpse of white she had caught was gristle or fat; it was more likely to be bone.

And that was highly dangerous in itself. There was still the fact that she had spent hours in icy water, and the sun had failed to properly fry her fur. At least nothing was broken, but Bramblewing would have to work hard to save the cat that did not even belong her her own Clan. A lesser medicine cat, one like Fallenbird, would not be doing the same.

It was dusk when the young she-cat finally peeled open her eyes. Cold stars glittered grimly in an indigo sky when she realized she could no longer recall her name, her past, nor who she had been.

* * *

**Sorry this chapter took so long. Computer's been...bad.**


	14. Chapter 13

"Let's try again," Bramblewing said patiently. Her words were belied by the twitch in her tail, the restless blue of her eyes.

"What's your name?"

For a long moment, the gray she-cat simply stared. Then she recalled, recently, that they had called her Pebblepaw. There was nothing before that, only a miasma of black emptiness were her memories supposedly resided.

"Pebblepaw," she replied, retreating from the darkness. She didn't like it there, because it reminded her of all the things she could have lost.

"Good." The medicine cat exhaled a long, weary sigh. It had taken her all morning just to get the dappled apprentice to merely remember her own _name._

"And where did you come from?"

Pebblepaw didn't reply, only stared blankly at the trodden ground. The question hung in the air for a moment, before it was preceded.

"CaveClan?" Bramblewing persisted.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I dunno. Does it matter?"

Bramblewing changed tactics. Reaching behind her with one slim brown foreleg, she swept a small pile of herbs towards the apprentice.

"What's this?" She pointed at a small scattering on tiny black seeds. Pebblepaw brightened, as if she were happy she could finally answer one of the numerous questions.

"Poppy seed!" she exclaimed.

The medicine cat plucked a dirty root from the pile.

"Borage!"

If Bramblewing had her theories right, Pebblepaw had had a traumatized and lonely past. Her final moments must had been agony. At the end, her fragile mind, to protect Pebblepaw from her pain and suffering, had simply blocked the memories. In its exhaustion, it had given in; it would have no more of the endless tragedy that had been called her life.

"Well," Bramblewing murmured, struggling to speak past the awkward lump in her throat. "You'd better have your rest now."

The grey she-cat said nothing, but her icy eyes were sulking. Falconfeather pushed past her mentor and fussily checked the wrappings on the apprentice's wounds. They were healing well, even the gash on her head. Bramblewing was satisfied with her work; it was only a matter of time-

"Bramblewing," Swiftstar hissed. She had snuck up behind the brown tabby. Her gaze was furtive.

"Here, follow me."

Swiftstar began to slink off, in her habitual theatrical manner. Bramblewing, restrained her habitual detached sigh, followed. The Clan, scattered around them, neither noticed nor cared. It was only Bramblewing and Swiftstar; FallowClan's most infamous duo. Doing who knew what, as per usual.

The patched leader finally chose what she deemed to be suitable spot. When she turned to face Bramblewing, it was with grave blue eyes. Somehow, the medicine cat knew that this was none of Swiftstar's usual drama.

"How soon can Pebblepaw go?" she asked, then cringed, expecting a verbal backlash. There was none; Bramblewing had known Pebblepaw could not remain forever, despite her distinct disabilities. She was simply not FallowClan. She did not belong, and besides, even if she not remember it, she already had a Clan. Bramblewing harboured a feeble hope the being reunited with her Clan would return her stolen memories.

"She can be ready go go in the next few days," Bramblewing said, closing her eyes and privately dealing with her warring emotions. Pebblepaw had been her project patient, nothing more; her safety was assured. This was, Bramblewing hoped, at least partly true.

"I know you don't want this," Swiftstar muttered, glaring at a trio of apprentices that had ventured too close. "But the rest of the Clan does. She doesn't hunt, or do any duties. She's just a mouth that takes food from the others who need it, who have _earned_ it. Besides. She's not truly FallowClan at heart. We cant keep her here or our alliance with Dewstar will be...forgotten, overlooked. You know what the ginger fool is like with his possessions. It's best we can return her, as soon as possible. You know that," she finished gently. Bramblewing nodded. She didn't trust words.

OoOo

Pebblepaw woke. Her paws felt like chunks of ice, and the dread coiled in her stomach was even colder.

_Today is the day.__ The day I die_, she thought, but instantly revoked that last sentence. She told herself firmly she was _not_ going to die. The unknown would not kill her.

Bramblewing was waiting with a leafy packet of what she called 'travel herbs'. Supposedly, they gave her strength and endurance, but as she crunched the leaves down, she did not trust the bitter taste.

"You'll be fine," Bramblewing insisted. She seemed to be trying to smile, but her eyes were too dark and worried for even such trivial things.

"Sure, sure," Pebblepaw agreed, swiping her tongue over her teeth in a vain effort to get rid of the awful taste.

Swiftstar strolled up with a couple of warriors. One was a thick-furred grey she-cat, the other a tall black tom. His eyes were a piercing, soul-searching blue, but his face was expressionless.

"This is Fernstorm and Crowskull," she called, by way of introduction. The she-cat dipped in her head in greeting. Swiftstar threw a final sentence over her shoulder as she jauntily strolled away. "They'll be your escorts."

"Hi," Pebblepaw muttered. The two cats crouched and devoured a couple of traveling herbs Bramblewing had kindly supplied.

"We'll get started?" the black tom asked. His tone was musical; his voice was disinterested. The grey one was still swiping her tongue over her jaws with distaste.

"Yeah," Bramblewing grunted. "You can go now."

Pebblepaw felt a small spark of betrayal- Bramblewing was on _her_ side, wasn't she? But before she could protest, her 'escort' hustled her away.

"Remember to change your poultices!" she called after them, as if Pebblepaw had the capability to find the right herbs and then smother it over the gash on the back of her head. The grey apprentice didn't glance around, so she did not see the sad mist lurking in the cerulean eyes.

Clouds stretched languidly across a pale sky. The air nipped with frozen fangs and the wind lashed its chilling whip. Pebblepaw fluffed up her thin grey fur, but it was a poor veil against the cold. For a petty moment, she was jealous of Fernstorm's thick pelt. The fresh green grass was damp beneanth her paws. It sparkled and gleamed with morning dew.

It reminded her of something, something on the very edges of her lost memory. _Dew...paw? Dew...star? _It remained in its shadowy spot, and no amount of pleading would lure it back.

The journey was made in silence. Neither cat spoke, but both the warrior kept a wary eye on Pebblepaw. She felt dwarfed as they traveled; the pair walked guardedly on either side of her, and they were each at least a head taller. Fernstorm began limping as they left the forest, but she did not slow her pace. She left little smears of blood on the turf behind them, until she finally bent her head, hobbled on three paws and ducked her head to rip out a small red thorn while somehow maintaining her wary watch on the apprentice.

It was a large island, and it took them the best part of the morning to get from the camp to what was commonly called the landbridge. By the time it drew into sight, Pebblepaw's paws ached. The thin winding scratch on her stomach itched with a frenzy. But her journey was nowhere near over.

Fernstorm apologized as they scramble down the steep slope to reach to shore. It was the first word that had been spoken for hours. She apologized again when she and Crowskull halted at the foot of the landbridge.

"Sorry, but we can't go any further. This is as far as Swiftstar instructed us to send you. Sorry."

"But-but..." Pebblepaw stammered. Suddenly she felt small and lost and alone- a kit.

"Sorry," she said again, but her gaze was firm. It seemed Pebblepaw had no choice but to march onwards over the sodden landbridge; Crowskull looked to be on the verge of driving her off his territory with his claws. So, with minimal hesitation, she took her first slow step. The earth was little more than mud beneath her. Sickening squelches accompanied her every footfall. A few brave scraps of grass flailed in the wind.

"Don't take too long!" Crowskull cautioned. "The tide will turn in a few minutes, and then you'll be treading nothing but water."

Pebblepaw gulped and yanked her foreleg out of the tenacious muck.

_Gross, gross, gross, gross_ became her personal mantra. She repeated it in her head, under her breath as she crossed. Soon, the warriors were two mere specks- one a bright blue-gray, the other a shadowy black- behind her and cloudy water lapped greedily at the mud. The lake spat small, pathetic waves at her, and sent the apprentice scurrying onward despite the hungry mud that sucked at her paws.

_Gross, gross, gross, gross_.

The water was nearly up to her belly-fur by the time she reached the shore. She flung herself on the solid land with a relived gasp, sides heaving.

"Gross!" she hissed, shaking each paw in turn to rid herself of the clinging, cloying mud- but it did not want to go. She scraped it off the long, wild grass the flourished beside the bank. Lastly, for one final time, she turned to stare at the island. For a short while, it had been her home; the only home she could remember. But now, even that was gone. Just like her memories. With slumped shoulders, she turned away and began to slink away, wondering if it were possible to feel nostalgic without any memories of her own.

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**Bit of an early update, eh? Anyway- review it this time? Pretty please? I might be nicer to Pebblepaw in the future. Or not.**


	15. Chapter 14

In her dreams, there was a a brown tom. Always the brown tom, watching, beckoning, fleeing.

_The short tom smiled at her, before melting into the shadows of the cave._

_"Wait!" she called. She tried to remember his name; she had knew it once, but now it cruelly evaded her. Just like the tom himself. She took a small, faltering step forwards, but the shadows made her nervous. But his friendly eyes gleamed in the shadows, bright and compelling. Her confidence swelled, and she followed him into the darkness, until they reached another cave. This time it was Pebblepaw in the darkness, and the tom in the light. He grinned at her, such an easy grin, and his name was on the very tip of her tongue. O...O...Ott...Otter? No, Otter was not it, but she felt if she could just try hard enough, the name would come to her. For a moment, she squeezed her eyes tightly closed and racked her blank memory._

_"Otterpaw!" she cried at last, opening her eyes again. But Otterpaw was fleeing from her, with one last, terrified backwards glance. Suddenly he fell to the cold stone floor and writhed. When he rose, Pebblepaw frozen to the spot, he was no longer short. He was no longer himself; he had grown, taller than any cat she had ever seen. His dark fur was now a dusky brown, and scars riddled his body. His face had widened, his eyes had grown into pools of molten liquid. His long winding tail appeared to have a pair of cracked fangs embedded in its tip. He was not a he, but now a she._

_"Pebblepaw," she called, with a rich, sweet voice that matched the allure of her eyes. Pebblepaw did not trust that honeyed tone, nor the crusty blood that painted her mouth and torso._

_When the feline leapt, Pebblepaw found she could not run._

With a jolt and a barely confined whimper, Pebblepaw woke. There was a name on her lips, not Otterpaw's, but a name far more sleeker and dangerous. It was a name that invoked fear, and the apprentice could not bring herself to say it. It was the one thing Pebblepaw knew she had not wanted to remember.

Stifling shivers, she crept out of her makeshift nest- a bed of twigs, branches and scraps of dry grass beneath a wide-leafed bush- and made her careful way down the steep bank to the river. It splashed hollowly into the empty pit of her stomach; the travelling herbs had, very inconveniently, worn off. She couldn't recall her last meal.

A flash of silver and scales caught her hungry eyes. She froze, eyes tracking the supple movement. FallowClan adored fish; she'd recovered on a rich diet of aquatic prey. Bramblewing had roughly demonstrated how to catch one. First, she'd said, you had to angle your upraised paw just so, to keep the shadow as thin as possible. Then, it was simply a matter of patience, and knowing when to strike. Pebblepaw had no patience. She was hungry- she wanted food _now. _Greedily, she scooped the wriggling fish out of the water onto the bank beside her. Some inkling of training hissed commands in the back of her mind. Before it could escape, she slammed her dripping paw on top of it. Soon all that remained was a small pile of twiggy bones; it had been a small, meager meal.

_Be glad_, she told herself firmly, and moved on. There was one small problem, a tiny detail; she did not know where she was going. So she followed the winding trail of the river. It was not exactly easy. One moment, it coiled sharply to the right, and then the next, it would veer to the left. It cut through hills she had to climb over, and had a tendency to flow through the the thickest of forests. Often wading in the chilly shallows was the only way to escape a pelt full of burrs and other leafy hitchhikers. At the very least, it washed the remaining traces of dried mud from her paws. It was not always a reliant food source, but Pebblepaw feared to stray too far away. It could be her only way to get home, wherever home may be. So she suffered the hunger pangs, the endless travelling, the incessant loneliness born of hours without company.

One day her easy rhythm of silence and solitude was shattered.

She was fighting her way around a particularly invasive bramble patch when she saw the cat. It was perched drowsily on a wide branch that dipped gently over the river. The cat in question was a dark grey tabby. She almost blended in with the shadows, but her startlingly blue eyes betrayed her guise. Those same blue orbs were fixated on Pebblepaw with an intensity that made her pelt crawl.

"Hello," she meowed evenly. She slipped into a stretch and continued to stare down at the apprentice.

"H-hi," she stuttered. Her voice croaked. She imagined it was from disuse, but it was more likely from the small cough she'd developed. Bramblewing had put it down to drifting, for StarClan knew how long, in choppy, chilling waters.

For a moment, the two she-cats simply stared at each other; one pair of blue eyes on another. Then the tabby turned sharply around and clawed her way off the tree. With curios hops, she made her way over to Pebblepaw.

"'Ello there," she said again, pushing her nose into Pebblepaw's face.

"Who 'er you?" she asked suspiciously. "You smell like one of 'em FallowClan cats."

"Well, yes," she agreed, taking a small, safe step backwards.

"I'm Pebblepaw, and I just came from the island. Do you-"

"You're a Clanner!" she barked, and Pebblepaw flinched. But the dark tabby was grinning. "Then again, so am I. Blizzardcry," she said, by way of introduction.

_Blizzardcry._ Somewhere, in the recess of her dark and dismal forgotten memory, the name was familiar.

"Silverstar said to return you to StormClan if anyone ever saw you," Pebblepaw said. She did not know where that had come from, but she had an image of a beautiful silver she-cat in her mind, silhouetted against an inky night sky.

"Silverstar. Pfft," the tabby sneered. "Always tried to treat me like one o' them pathetic old elders. Said my mind was the pink-and-grey brain equivalent of mousedung. At least I think that's what she said. It's hard to remember sometimes, y'know?"

Pebblepaw nodded. She _did_ know, more than the other she-cat could ever guess. "Uhh, listen," she began. "I'm trying to find CaveClan. Do you know where they are?"

"Whadda you want with that snooty bunch?" Blizzardcry asked. She wrinkled her nose at the mere thought of the cave cats.

"I have my reasons," she replied, shrugging nonchalantly._ If only I could remember them._

Blizzardcry twitched her whiskers and narrowed her eyes. She seemed to be very fond of odd facial expressions.

"Well, you're way off." She paused snorted, then flicked a contemptuous glance across the river and into the opposing forest. "CaveClan lives over _there_. In a _cave._"

Pebblepaw blinked, and thought that Silverstar's example seemed rather apt.

"Um, thanks," Pebblepaw muttered. Blizzardcry was still staring into the forest, mumbling something about _sulfur_ and _stink _ and _mouse-hearts, the lot of them. _

"You don't have to go," she said suddenly, looking down at the apprentice quizzically. "It's not really like it's that great over there or anything. I mean, you could stay here with me."

"Thanks." Pebblepaw began to edge away. There was a pleading loneliness in the other she-cat's eyes. If she stayed much longer, she'd get roped into feeling sympathy for Blizzardcry. And then, as she asked, she's never get away. Her home and past meant more to her than some half-crazed she-cat she'd found dozing in the woods.

"Why don't you go back to StormClan?" Pebblepaw asked.

"They don't appreciate my genius," Blizzardcry sniffed. She looked distracted; she mumbled her half-hearted reply while nibbling one one gull golden claw.

"Besides, the medicine cat was pretty stingy with her catmint." The grey tabby began to wander off into the bush. Pebblepaw stared after her for a moment. Had she ever met a more nonsensical, erratic cat? The she-cat paused, poked at something on the ground, and continued onward. Pebblepaw considered a call of farewell, but decided against it. Blizzardcry, in her dopey wanderings, did not look like she remembered their meeting, let alone her own name. So Pebblepaw went on her way. Her first mission was to find a suitable spot to cross the river. In places, it ran swift and cold. There were hidden potholes and sudden abysses. In the end, she used the leaning branch as a cautious crossing. It was a terror-filled few moments. Rushing water plunged and swirled below her, crushing itself against the sparse forest of jutting rocks.

But once she was over, she was filled with a bright and bubbly elation; she was finally on her way home.

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**And you all know what home means? Right?**

**(Does anyone have nightmares about Kiroki? Or at the very least, feel like she's watching you from underneath your couch?)**


	16. Chapter 15

**Do I get any reviews for this one? They're becoming an endangered species 'round here.**

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Jaggedstripe watched. It was the only the only thing he _could_ do, he knew; his life was forfeit if he did not.

_You see, Pebble is going to disappear. _Ever present was Kiroki's sleek voice whispering into his ear. _She'll return to the camp, I know she will. You'll be waiting for her when she does. If she tries to take one step into these caves- then, snap, instant mutilation. _She'd warned him what would happen if he let Pebblepaw slip by him. It had also involved a small, half-hearted demonstration. Pinning him against one rough rock wall, she had slowly dragged one slick ebony claw against his throat. It had left but a mere scratch, but Kiroki had promised the real thing, if he should ever displease her, would be much deeper, much bloodier and _much _more painful.

So he watched, hour after hour, day after day, and began to hope. She had not yet returned, and close to a quarter moon had passed. At first his hope had been small and feeble. He tried to quash it, but the passing Pebble-less days had nurtured it, and it had grown. But Kiroki's self-confidence had never waned. She'd known that this day was coming. Jaggedstripe had only been too blinded by his desperate hope to see it.

But the small grey dot on the horizon obliterated his hope. As the morning slowly passed, and the sun crawled higher into the sky, the grey dot grew bigger. Smaller shrank the weak remains of his hope. He stole a moment, closed his eyes and inhaled a deep, resolved breath, steeling his heart for what he was about to do.

Behind him, the cave entrance loomed deep and black. It was little more than wide slit in the ground. Jaggedstripe could not think exactly why any cat had chosen to explore it anyway.

"Hello," the small grey she-cat said, coming to a halt in front of him. She seemed bigger than he remembered; sleeker, leaner. But there was a certain vagueness in her cerulean eyes that had not been there before. A blue mist, shallow and hazy. Something was wrong. Jaggedstripe's pelt prickled. This was not the same Pebblepaw.

"Is this CaveClan?" she asked, blinking up at him. A chill washed damply over his pelt, and he thought of the river, the thundering junction where rushing water met jagged stone teeth.

_That_ river, he thought, and shivered. _It got her good._

"Yeah," Jaggedstripe replied warily. "It is."

Pebblepaw brightened, and Jaggedstripe's tough façade melted. He couldn't hurt the delicate apprentice. The cruelty wasn't in him. As if on cue, he felt a phantom claw trail down his spine.

_If you don't hurt her, I'll hurt _you, Kiroki whispered. Fear scuttled over his fur, squeezed the air from his suddenly heaving lungs. His heavy claws slid from their sheaths. He could already feel the blood on them, coating his paws and staining his fur. If it wasn't Pebblepaw's blood, it was be his. Kiroki would have no regrets in spilling it. Blood lust gave the mountain cat an elation, a rush of adrenaline and bliss. Kiroki has described it all, in very gruesome detail, forcing Jaggedstripe to listen with a paw over his throat.

"And who are you?" Pebblepaw frowned, as if trying to recall something that should have been blatantly obvious. "I'm sorry, I don't remember much-" she began. That was when Jaggedstripe's massive forepaw crashed against the side of her head. She whimpered, staggered, fell. Her eyes were dazed.

_Mutilate_, he thought, fighting back a wave of retch. He couldn't do it, he knew he couldn't do it, he was weak, he didn't value his life, but even as the thoughts echoed in his head, his talons were descending, tearing, ripping. _Mutilating. _Like a monster, like a pathetic slave that cowered and pleaded in front of Kiroki. He had bargained for his life, and in the process exchanged his death for Pebblepaw's.

Pebblepaw was shrieking. He could dimly remember that, It was the only sound she would make in his nightmares.

Jaggedstripe heard himself apologizing with each deft sweep of his claws, choking out something that sounded like, "_Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, StarClan, I'm so sorry..."_ over and over and over again.

There was a paw on his heart, crushing it as he tore into Pebblepaw. Her skin tore as easily as slicing through a butterfly's wing.

At one point Pebblepaw made a desperate bid for freedom. She was bleeding, wounded, blood coursing from the ragged ruins of her ear. Long slices covered her sides. Her pelt wasn't grey anymore; it was a deep, guilty red. She scrambled away, pleading as she ran, limping, sobbing, falling, crawling. Jaggedstripe followed her, numbly, his breath hitching in his throat. His paws, of their own accord, rose and batted roughly at her. She cowered, tried to raise her feet against him, but he caught one foreleg in his mouth and bit down until he felt bone scraping against his teeth. She squealed, twisted away, flailed wildly. A flimsy blow connected with his head, and in the moment it took to shake and clear his vision, Pebblepaw was fleeing once more. She left large, garish red smears behind. For a cat with such severe injuries, she ran swiftly. But Jaggedstripe was larger, stronger, _faster_. With giant strides he swallowed up the rock and sparse grass beneath him. With a massive leap he caught her, bowled her to the ground. In a tumble of legs and tails and crimson, they tumbled down a rock slope. For one moment, trying to suck air into his lungs, he thought they'd stopped, but they only, briefly, crashed into the side of a small rock. Then they were flying through the air again, Pebblepaw raining desperate blows down on his head and body.

When they landed, it was not stone that they hit, but it hurt all the same. Jaggedstripe was fortunate enough to land on Pebblepaw. There was a crunch and a sickening snap. Jaggedstripe rolled away, gasping, coughing, restraining the bile that demanded to be released.

_I did not ask you to break her_, the specter-Kiroki hissed. The tabby tom threw a glance over his shoulder as he retched up air, and froze. Pebblepaw was a quivering bloodied puddle of fur. One leg stuck out at an awkward angle, bent in a way that legs were not supposed to do. Bright wounds bloomed all over her pelt. In places the fur had been completely clawed off. One side of her face was perfectly unmarred; the other was slashed and ruined. Her ear was in tatters, and long lacerations stretched languidly across her cheek, narrowly missing her blue, blue eye. The tiniest speck of red adorned her nose.

It was this horrific sight, the proof of what he had done, that finally brought the bile up. It spilled from his mouth as if it wanted nothing more to do with the monster he had become.

Weakly, the tom began to crawl away, inch by inch, dragging himself with red claws. As the blood dried, dirt clung to it, until his talons were one large clod of mud. He reached a stream and tried to douse in paws in the cold water.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, staring at the beautiful shades of red that stained his paws, his pelt, his soul.

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**Sorry about all o' this. It had to happen. You could write a review and scream at me if you wanted to.**


	17. Chapter 16

When Pebblepaw managed to peel open her eyes, there was a curious face just inches from hers. She tried to recoil, but her stiff, battered body and the scabbing wounds torn across her pelt prevented her from moving little more than a mouse-tail away. The face's eyes blinked, and the body the face belonged to shuffled a few steps back. With a jolt, Pebblepaw saw that it was the same brown tom from her dreams.

"Hi," Otterpaw said, giving her a small smile. Pebblepaw only continued to stare at him, thinking, _I did. I found CaveClan. _Then, at last, she raised her gaze and glanced around. She was in a small, dark cave, she realised, and the floor was strewn with herbs and mossy nests. Her eyes strayed back to the short brown tom, who was staring at her with an unnerving intensity.

"Are you alright, Pebblepaw?" he asked, frowning. Pebblepaw found herself trying to scoot further away, but there was a rock wall behind her- strangely warm, radiating a soft, comforting heat- that restricted her movement, and ultimately her escape.

"How do you know my name?" Pebblepaw croaked. There was a sudden lisp in her voice that had not been there before, a sharp pain in her cheek; her tongue lolled out of the shreds of skin that remained. She could see a look in Otterpaw's dark eyes. She couldn't identify it, but it seemed to linger on the border between fear and pity. Twisting her head, she saw the bright, red slashes and lacerations all over her pelt. Most were modestly covered with poultices and cobwebs, but some wicked wounds remained uncovered, grinning a crimson, maniacal grin. A crude splint was strapped to her hind-leg. Pebblepaw felt her mouth drop open, accompanied by a tug and a stretch of ruined skin as her cheek was pulled out of shape. A wet trickle flooded her mouth; the last was tiny and metallic. Blood, she realised, and struggled to choke it down. Closing her eyes, she was hit by a barrage of memories.

The silver tom, wincing as he struck her head.

The silver tom, tearing into her with frenzied talons.

Her blood, leaking onto the dismally grey rocks.

The silver tom's wide, wide eyes, and his voice, "_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."_

She remembered the pain that blinded her, how tiny and helpless she felt.

The silver tom, flying towards her with giant leaps as she struggled, vainly, to escape.

She remembered her shriek as he plowed into her and sent the both of them tumbling down a steep slope.

She remembered the sensation of flying, of falling, of landing with a sharp _crunch_ that brought her to a whole other level of pain.

She remembered the silver tom crawling away, heaving and retching.

She remembered nothing after that.

"There was an accident," Otterpaw explained, neatly sidestepping her previous question. He pushed a dripping, mossy ball towards her. "Drink?"

Thirstily, she lapped at the moss and did her best to ignore the remnants of her cheek, and that water that lazily dribbled out the side of her mouth. Then she looked up again and pinned Otterpaw to the spot with a cold blue glare.

"You didn't answer me," she rasped, hating the way her cheek made her hiss, distorted her words with a childish lisp. "How do you know my name? Did I know you?"

"You...you don't remember?" the tom faltered. "You don't remember me?" His eyes filled with pain and loss, but a scrap of relief lurked, selfishly, in the depths of the tawny pits.

"No," Pebblepaw snapped, compelling him with her gaze to _shut up and answer the damn questions._

"Oh," Otterpaw said; the sound was half a sigh, half a small sound of hurt.

"We were...friends, before, before what happened. You don't remember anything before that?"

She shook her head, motioned with her tail for him to carry on.

"There was a raid, before Stormpaw's- he was another apprentice- warrior ceremony. Kiroki interrupted it. She killed him and another tom, Shardeyes. I assume you don't remember him. Oh. You don't remember Kiroki, do you?" His voice lowered to a whisper. "She's a monster," he breathed, eyes wide. he glanced over his shoulder as if he expected her saunter into the medicine den at any moment. "She's half Clan-cat, half mountain lion. Dewstar threw her into the Pit- which is a big cave, filled with bones and very little ways out, and it's real dark too- when he realised what she was. Then he feed her our prisoners, mostly rogues and stuff, and one or two rebellious warriors. Elders too. He said they had no value to the Clan. But she escaped, and killed Dewstar's son, Redpaw. Now she terrorises the Clan. But anyway, after she killed Stormpaw and Shardeyes, she turned to you. She grabbed you and ran away with you. We had no idea what happened until we found you like...like that." He gestured at Pebblepaw's prone and weak body.

"I can tell you what happened," Pebblepaw hissed. "She dumped me in a river. I lost my memory- conviently. FallowClan found me. Their medicine cat took care of me." She began to struggle out of her nest, Otterpaw backing away. "Now I want to go back. Bramblewing will know how to treat me.  
Otterpaw shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea," he muttered, staring up at her. Despite her wounds, her splinted leg, her weak, trembling body, she still towered over him. The tom broke away and scuttled over to a slim crack in the wall; she assumed that this was the exit.

"Fallenbird!" he called, and a tortoiseshell hurried into the den.

"Pebblepaw!" she cried, stopping short and staring at the quivering apprentice. "Sit down, or you'll open up your wounds again!" Bemused, Pebblepaw shuffled backwards, her broken leg clunking awkwardly over the floor. With a huff and a wave of pain from bitterly protesting wounds, she sat down amidst the moss.

"That's better." Fallenbird smiled and pushed a small packet of herbs towards the grey she-cat. A black seed spilled off its cushion of green leaves.

"Eat," she meowed firmly; Pebblepaw had no choice but to gulp down the foul-tasting package.

Moments later, the pain subsided, and she was coated in a layer of drowsiness. She felt sleepy; eons of sleep could not compensate with how tired she felt, how she longed to lie down and close her eyes. Pebblepaw collapsed against the soft moss of her nest. It smelled of blood, but it did not concern her. Neither did the creamy-coloured head poking through the cave entrance, and the blurred voice accompanying it.

"Hey," it said, sounding a little betrayed. "I wanted to see her too-"


	18. Chapter 17

**Seriously, my readers, is it a review ghost-town out here or what?**

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Fallenbird collapsed onto her haunches as Pebblepaw's eyes fluttered closed. The garish mess of gaping wounds stared back at her, beckoning with red fingers. She'd patched up what she could, using as little herbs as possible. It would still be a moon, at least, before the herb growth would be flourishing, and she wanted to have a small supply for another emergency. So some wounds had to be left bare. Whenever she looked at the crusted, slitted tangle of lacerations, she felt guilty, but her sole responsibility was not only for Pebblepaw, but the whole Clan. Otterpaw resented her for it, but he, or his opinions, didn't really matter in the grand plot of everything.

Splatterpaw dropped a mouse beside Pebblepaw. She too looked resentful; she'd wanted to be there when the injured apprentice woke up. She began muttering at something. She hadn't realized, not yet, how traumatized Pebblepaw had become. How she had lost her memories, and could not recall even a scrap of her old life. Fallenbird shot a meaningful look at Otterpaw, flicking her tail in a wide gesture meant to say, _go tell her, now, because I ain't._

He seemed to get it, and lead Splatterpaw to the other side of the den. His expression was grave, but he didn't seemed shocked or even very sad. If anything he looked a little relieved, and the medicine cat knew why. After the raid, he'd retreated into the caves without a backwards glace, quite alone and looking guilty as sin. If Pebblepaw remembered nothing, then she would not recall her best friend's betrayal; clean slate._  
_

Splatterpaw's reaction to the news seemed slightly melodramatic. Her lips parted in a shocked gasp. She looked distraught. Her pale fur was bristling and her tail quivered like a cornered mouse.

Grimly, Fallenbird left the pair and headed out of her den. Someone needed to tell Dewstar, and unfortunately it looked like she was the only one left to confront him.

OoOo

Where before there had simply been an empty space, there was now a face. A slim face, sharp with angles. Large ginger whiskers sprouted sporadically over its muzzle. At first Dewstar tried to recoil, but he had forgotten he was in a cave. With a sharp crack his head collided into the rock wall behind him. The tom blinked. His eyes were blurred and his mind was even more dazed. After a bit of staring into the impatient eyes, he realized that it was not anything remotely dangerous; only Fallenbird. He relaxed and gave her a small smile, one that she did not return.

"Dewstar," she said, and he inclined his head.

_Yeah, Dewstar, that's me and me is that,_ he thought.

"I have news. Make yourself comfortable." She backed away and leaned against a wall. Feeling somewhat undignified, he sat up in his nest and gathered stray scraps of moss to him. He'd been napping when Fallenbird had, ever so rudely, interrupted him.

"Listen," she snapped. The sharpness of her voice attracted Dewstar's vague attraction.

"We've found Pebblepaw."

Dewstar blinked. "Pebblepaw..? I don't recall a Pebblepaw- oh. That one."

"Yeah. _That _one."

The ginger tom slumped into his nest, groaning, "Why can't she just stay dead?"

"Well, she's injured, not dead. Grievously. We think it was Kiroki, but the wounds appear too small in diameter."

Dewstar perked up at the mention of her injuries. "Can she...'pass on' during treatment?" he asked hopefully.

"No, she seems fine now. The only thing wrong with her now is multiple lacerations and a broken leg. Possibly a head injury as she can't seem to remember anything-_anything at all_- from before the incident."

"So...so even if she had found out, well, you know, her parentage...she won't know now? We can re-convince her she's the kit of another aimless rogue?" Dewstar asked. He looked giddy with glee, which was a far cry from his usual frozen public demeanour.

"Of course we can," Fallenbird beamed. "Everything is working out perfectly. Apart from Kiroki, but I'm sure you'll work that one out, won't you, our resident genius?"

Dewstar pretended to pout but could not hold back a deep purr. He snuck a furtive glance at the dim entryway before rubbing his jaw over the slim tortoiseshell cheek. She purred, too, and their previous conversation became inexplicably irrelevant. Sudden footsteps sounded outside the den and the pair sprang part. A mere heartbeat later Moonlily popped her silver head into the den, prey clenched between her teeth. She nodded once at Fallenbird before coming to sit beside her mate.

"Remember that apprentice ceremony tomorrow, won't you?" she reminded him as she exited the dark cave. Her face was a composed mask; she hid her secrets behind this facade like a second skin. Split seconds later, after her black-and-ginger tail had disappeared into the tunnel beyond, a terrified shriek began to echo through the network.

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**Rightio kiddliwinks. This chapter was exceptionally hard to right, hence the short length. Also, my 'sidelines' story is also dictating most of my attention right now, so Savy will be updated on an infrequent basis. Once every few weeks, months...years.**


	19. Chapter 18

She felt the sound exploding from her lungs, filling the air with a terrified wail, but she did not hear it.

She smelt nothing, but the heavy reek of blood.

She saw nothing but him.

He stared down at her in in shock, blue eyes wide in shock and horror, mouth open in a soundless gape.

Pebblepaw felt her lips draw back, as she ended her wail with a guttural snarl. Awkwardly, the injured apprentice pressed herself against the ground. Images, snippets of memories flashed through her mind; she remembered her training, her mock-fights with vaguely familiar cats. She remembered simple defense moves, elaborate attacks, and if she weren't injured, she would've used them.

"I'm sorry," the grey tabby said, and she flinched. He'd said those words, as he'd hurt her, over and over and over again.

"I'm sorry- I mean, I didn't mean...to frighten you," he murmured, taking a step back. His massive frame filled the cave's entrance.

"Frighten me!" Pebblepaw spat. "You nearly killed me!"

"It wasn't me!" he protested. "Well, okay, I know it was, but it wasn't my idea. It was Kiroki, I swear. I didn't want to hurt you, Pebblepaw, I promise!"

"_Your_ promises mean nothing!" she hissed, baring her fangs, ignoring the pain in her cheek as the ruined skin stretched taut.

Clattering sounded in the tunnel outside, before Fallenbird drew into view behind the silver tom.

"Jaggedstripe," she exclaimed, pushing her way past him, into her den. "What do you think you're doing, frightening my patient?"

"I-nothing, Fallenbird. I just, uh, had a few wounds I thought needed to be treated."

Pebblepaw glared at him; she could not fill her gaze with enough venom to convey the entirety of her raging hate. Despite herself, she trembled. She was afraid of the brutish tom, who could inflict agony with one swipe of his claws.

_Will he tell her, or will I?_ she wondered grimly.

"Wounds? Where did you get wounds-" the tortoiseshell broke off, in the middle of examining two puncture wounds on his paw. She raised her gaze to the apprentice.

"Pebblepaw," she said, her voice shaking. "Come over here, would you. for a minute?"

Pebblepaw reluctantly sidled towards the medicine cat. She'd lost her voice; she couldn't speak, could only move.

Fallenbird placed Jaggedstripe's paw on one of Pebblepaw's long cuts. She sucked in a breath; it fit, perfectly.

"You! It was was you!" she snarled.

Jaggedstripe didn't shake his head, didn't nod, didn't move. He simply stared into the medicine cat's eyes, a condemning guilt lingering in his own.

Fallenbird her paw, silently unsheathed her claws, and in one swift movement, she raked them down the silver tabby's face.

…

"_Pit!"_ the crowd cried. "_To the pit, the pit, take him to the pit!"_

They didn't feel any remorse over Pebblepaw's maiming, didn't feel any sense of injustice or betrayal, but oh, how they loved their pit. It didn't matter _who _they threw in the there, as long it was someone.

Jaggedstripe found himself pushed in front of the crowd, the gleeful, familiar chant ringing in his ears. It had been so incredibly _stupid_ to go to Fallenbird. He saw that now, but that did nothing to change his predicament.

Fallenbird had run to Dewstar; Dewstar had called a meeting; Grassblade had told the Clan to throw him into the pit.

In a frenzy of bloodlust the crowd ushered him with teeth and claws into the long, winding tunnel that would lead to his ultimate doom.

The scent of blood would not leave his nose; it had matted on his cheek, where Fallenbird had struck him.

_Pit!_

The cry reverberated in his bones.

_Pit, Pit!_

Echoed, in each shallow beat of his worthless heart.

_Pit. Pit. Pit._

His mouth went dry as they drew up before the the covered hole. He was going to die.

"Go on, Jaggedstripe," Grassblade growled. "You open it."

The gathered cats snickered as the large tom shuffled towards the circular rock. Uncertainly, he positioned his shoulder against it and heaved. It moved an inch and stopped, which only fueled the crowd's laughter.

He heaved again, and dug his claws into the stone floor. He leaned against it, and gritted his teeth.

"That's enough," Dewstar snapped; it was about half-open.

The crowd pressed closer. Thistletooth was there, he saw, giggling coyly. At the promise of the Pit, she forgot all and very relation he had to him.

"Now!" Dewstar cried, and in one fluid motion, the Clan rushed at him, teeth bared, claws outstretched. Jaggedstripe knew that if he did not jump, he'd be torn to shreds.

The silver tom turned and squeezed his way through the gap with a wordless yowl. Darkness swallowed him with a silent grin, and he fell.

…

He landed with a thump and crunch of bones. Not his bones, he realized with a distant horror, but the bones of other, long-dead cats and ancient creatures. The stench of decay ran riot in the stale air.

Gagging, Jaggedstripe rolled to his feet.

Above him, with a final snicker, the stone dome rolled over the entrance and the light abrubtly disappeared.

"Hello? Hello? Help me!" Jaggedstripe cried. He took a stumbling step forward, hissed as his paw struck smooth bone.

"Dear, dear, are you _lost_, little one?" a silky voice purred. A barbed tail stroked his spine.

"Kiroki," Jaggedstripe said, freezing at her touch. Somehow, he hadn't thought that she would be down here; not after she'd found a way to escape.

"Who else?" An under current of malice lined her voice.

"Kiroki, please, you have to help me escape," he pleaded. The darkness was going to drive him insane.

"_Have to_? Are you trying to tell me what to do?"

"No, I didn't mean-"

"Is the task done? Did you do it?" she asked urgently, her breath hot against his ear.

Jaggedstripe cringed; the memories burned like fresh wounds. "Yes," he replied hoarsely. "I mutilated the poor apprentice, just like you asked."

There was a moist sigh of relief.

"That's good. I was getting hungry," she murmured, and he felt slick fangs graze his neck.

"I've been so bored down here, dear little one, won't you entertain me?"

"E-entertain you?" Jaggedstripe stuttered "How might I...entertain you?"

There was a ragged laugh, as Kiroki shoved him away.

"Run," she commanded, and so he ran.

* * *

**Voilà****, a new chapter! Savour this moment because it'll probably be a while before I can post a new one.**

**In case you like my writing and miss reading it, you could check out my main story The Poisoned and The Pure because that's where my effort has been focused and it seems to be popular. I've done some one-shot challenges too and been catching up on some work so I decided to do this chapter as well.**


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